Uplifted
by DarkDanny
Summary: Definitive Edition: Desperate for an end to the exile, now in its forty-seventh year, the quarians decide on a last audacious plan to help them destroy the geth. However, January 1942 in occupied Russia might not be the best place for first contact with humanity.
1. First Contact

**I decided quite a while back that the Uplifted Series needed a total overhaul in spelling, grammar, loose ends, general edginess, excessive cursing and angst. I was procrastinating about every day ever since that decision was made. The longer I let it stay up, the more ugly the series looked to me. I couldn't keep working on a series that just felt like an ugly mess. So I deleted the series to motivate me to update. I'm going to be fixing it up and posting updates as fast as they are done.**

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 **Chapter One: January 15th 1942: First Contact**

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The distant noise on his ears was artillery fire raining over Leningrad, now officially one hundred and twenty nine days into the brutal siege around the city formerly known as Saint Petersburg, a once proud city now scarred with a Bolshevik name. Like everything else controlled by the Reds, it was yet another tumour which would be cut out, the whole cancer that was Bolshevism would be eradicated. It was only a matter of time.

They could not be more than a hundred miles from the siege now. Thankfully however, it was a siege they would not be a part of. A convoy which was heading east towards the front lines of the encircled city was a convenient escort to their real intended destination. Their own detachment of one Hanomag 251 and a lone Panzerkampfwagon IV Ausf G, though had no intentions on joining the convoy all the way to the battle for Leningrad, and instead they moved along with this convoy for several hours; it was safer to travel with them,

Travelling with only a dozen men, a lightly armoured Hanomag and a single Panzer made them easy prey for partisans. Once they got to the site spotted by elements of the 2nd Tactical Wing not five hours ago, then they would get reinforcements. From the excited ramblings, he thought he saw something Soviet and experimental in the area. Knowing Stuka pilot reputations, Sturmbannführer Joachim Hoch could only imagine that the pilot would have fired at the very least one or two bursts of 20mm rounds at the anomaly.

Pushing his long black and very warm jacket against him, he glanced contemptuously at the dozen men of the Wehrmacht Heer. Members of the 16 Army of Army Group North. Men who looked half-starved and weathered, all of them not shaved and smelling as though hygiene was never invented.

Inwardly, Joachim was very torn in his opinion on them. This situation was not their fault entirely. Blame could be found from their arrogant commanders who did not think far ahead enough to know this war would see potentially many Russian winters and simply did not petition their Führer as hard as they could. On the other hand, these men allowed themselves to be bogged down by the Slav hordes, with their Jewish Bolshevik commissars holding pistols and machine guns at their backs. That was not propaganda, that was something he had seen with his own eyes.

The common Soviet was no match for the professionalism instilled in hard regimental training and well won campaigns against the British and the French that he men in the Wehrmacht had. So why now did they break down? It was scarring their almost flawless legacy.

Alas, It did not matter really, spring was fast approaching, a repeat of this failure would not occur again.

"Herr Sturmbannführer, I think there's something in the ice!"

Lighting a cigarette, Joachim glanced upwards to the square jawed soldier manning the machine gun, who was flashing a torch at something. He stood up and joined the Hanomag gunner. His eyes squinted, unable to see anything at first.

Then he saw it, a dull flash of corroded silver. It looks as though the steel was burnt.

Joachim exhaled his cigarette lowly. He simply banged on the roof of the transport. The driver obeyed the silent order and came to an abrupt stop. The Panzer behind them followed the halftrack's lead. The Waffen SS officer turned back to the suddenly very alert looking soldiers.

"Out of the vehicle and form a defensive perimeter," he commanded stubbing his cigarette out on the floor.

The men nodded and filed out, with little discipline, he could not blame them considering their state. Through the bone chilling snow and icy wind they marched, a mixture of Kar 98k rifles and the occasional MP-40's, even the main gun and machine guns of the Panzer IV had been raised at the strange cylindrical machine, like an exotic ship. It was damaged badly, unlikely to be ever used again.

Joachim stepped behind the men, his hand digging into his side holster to tug out his Walther P38, which he held dangling loosely at his side. The tension remained unchecked as the troops nervously stared at the strange vessel. Even Hoch had to admit a sudden wave of nervousness coming over him. One simply did not make these sorts of finds...

Joachim sighed loudly.

"Well, do any of you speak Russian?"

Pulling one hand away from his submachine gun nervously, one of the Unteroffizer's pushed his hand high into the air. Hoch gestured to him, smiling invitingly.

"Well go on then, give them a warning."

The man nodded and stepped forward. A sudden barrage of words in that foul language came from the soldier. Quietly, they waited for a reply that didn't come. Joachim sighed and turned away. He wandered back to the halftrack and dug through the supply crate just inside the transport. Finally he found what he was looking for, a flare gun and several rounds, which he collected.

Loading the gun and firing off enough flares to illuminate the site, it gave Joachim and his men a sense at just how big this crash site was, just how big this ship was. It was roughly the size of a submarine. It was such a sight that even the hatch of the Panzer IV opened and in it stood the panzer commander, in his hands was a submachine gun, adding yet another weapon to the many others pointing at the crash site.

"Herr Sturmbannführer, might I suggest you stay back?" the panzer commander cackled. "My gunner could fire a round at it for good measure."

Hoch rolled his eyes as the commander grinned viciously. Before Joachim could approach anymore closer to the wreck, nor tell the commander off, sudden movement came from the crash site, forcing the Major to freeze in place, his head tilted slightly as he rose his pistol.

 _"If anyone is in there, I suggest you show yourself. You're surrounded, come out now,"_ Joachim commanded with all of the authority that he possessed. _"No harm will come to any of you, if you comply. You have my word!"_

Silence.

At least it was silent as first. They could hear the clanging of metal and the muffling of snow approach them, finally, coming out of the shadow of the wreck was three men, wearing strange full protective gear. Slowly, their hands raised into the air. Joachim bit back the urge to gasp.

Men... No. No, they were not men.

Their arms were spindly, even in the suit they looked thin, their hands unnaturally long with no more than a thumb and two digits. Their legs appeared long and flexible with what appeared like talons for toes. These were not men.

They were _aliens_.

They were aliens that a jumpy private had fired his rifle at.

A strange sort of blue haze covered the victim of the rifle fire, leaving the being unharmed and the men stunned at the display of seemingly magic technology. In a fraction of a second, the beings reacted. They pulled what looked like blocks off their back, with a press of a button, the block expanded into what looked like rifles. The beings returned fire, several of the men fell as they were shredded open with amazing power.

The rest of the soldiers retreated, firing enough rounds that forced the adversary to duck for cover in the ruins of their vessel. Joachim too ducked into the snow, now forgotten by the alien creatures. What in the hell had happened? As quietly as he could he bolted through the snow past the Panzer. He wasn't running away, he was flanking them. He tugged off his overcoat for better mobility.

Pushing through the crash site, he crouched and silently moved until he was behind the unit of alien beings firing wildly on his men. Without so much as a moment's hesitation, Joachim charged the closest alien threat, his leg kicking out the curvy legged alien as he wrestled the weapon from out of its hands.

They both fell, rolling as they struggled for the only weapon close to them, the one in his hand, his Walther, it too ended up buried somewhere in the snow leaving man and alien unarmed and pulling themselves away from each other as fast as they could.

The alien lashed out, screaming in its unfamiliar language, its long, three digit finger hand smacked against his face, knocking his cap off and messing up his slicked back hair. Again it went after him. This time he was ready, he pushed his body back, dodging the blow before returning a hit, slamming directly into the alien's stomach.

The alien fell to the melting snow, but not before Hoch reached out and grabbed the creature by its throat, dragging the being back up with him.

For the first time, Hoch could carefully examine the creature... it was different from the others, more curves and the faintest sign of breasts hidden beneath the strange suit. It was... female...

Or so he assumed. Before he could put some serious thought to the topic, a sudden and shocking pain erupted in his side. He glanced down blankly, there; sticking into his thigh was a knife. Ignoring the pain to the best of his ability, he turned back to the alien woman and head butted her, letting her fall limply to the ground.

 _"You bitch!"_ he growled as his leg swung out and connected hard into her abdomen.

Hoch pulled the blade out and threw it away; digging into his belt he pulled his own Blood and Honour dagger out from his holster. He fell next to her and tugged the helmeted head back, the sharp steel blade pressed against the material. The woman was not frightened in the slightest.

No, her fear did not come about until Joachim's free hand wrapped around metal tubing, shrouded carefully by the hood she wore. With that simple touch, all resistance in her died, suddenly her voice, bright as a bird called to her compatriots.

The resistance died from the aliens, they hid back behind cover staring furiously at the Waffen-SS man who held the woman hostage. Hoch glared right back, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to make these bastards pay with their blood for shooting down so many of the Heer troops.

"Cease your fire! Everything is back under control!" he called out to his men, still breathing deeply as his hand held was still over the piping connected to the aliens mask. He ignored his men yelling furiously as they attempted to drag back what was left of the dead and wounded.

She cried out again to the aliens, this time earning a protesting roar from one of them who did not seem impressed with what she was saying, that or being bossed around by a woman on the field of battle of all places. Taking great care that he was not shot by the soldiers outside, the alien moved out of cover and into the wreck itself. Joachim paid no mind to the almost frightened breathing coming from within the suit, nor the searing pain his stab wound was causing, nor did he pay attention to the fact that there now laid an alien on him, completely undermining everything he thought he knew.

The alien came back, in his hands a small metal box, which he pressed into the woman's hands. She glanced back to Hoch, as though asking for silent permission. The Sturmbannführer nodded, but tugged on the tubes, a reminder of his own that he was in control.

She opened it; in it was a small cylindrical device. Without a moment of hesitation, the woman grabbed it and offered it to the Major.

The device offered was a source of discomfort for Joachim. He simply stared at it distrustfully. The woman shuffled closer in the snow, her long hand pressing against the label of his uniform. She retracted it and touched his ear, making the man that much more uncomfortable. Her hand gestured to her and slowly she spoke, her language still as alien as ever.

Joachim glanced from her and to the men, whose exotic rifles were still pointing at the Wehrmacht men who in turn, still had their weapons raised at them behind the cover of the Hanomag. The Panzer too rolled up and aimed its heavy cannon at the group.

He turned back. In that moment, Joachim knew that bloodshed had to end. This.. this was much to important. Joachim grabbed the device, earning a strange approval from the woman. Her hand grabbed his wrist and pushed it towards his ear. Taking the cue, Joachim finished the job, slipping the device just against his ear canal.

The device hissed and hummed, yet nothing happened. Not at first, not until the machine hummed lightly as it absorbed the noise of the alien cleared her throat.

"This... this was not how we wanted to make first contact," the woman admitted to Joachim, her voice strangely foreign, "I am Captain Hanala'Jarva vas Devoas, and keeping us alive is in your best interest."

 _Best interest?_

"Sturmbannführer Joachim Hoch," Hoch managed to get out without showing any agony in his features. "I have no intentions on harming you, despite your murder of three of my men. But what, pray tell, can you possibly threaten us with."

Very reluctantly, Hoch let go of the pipes coming out of the helmet and stood up unsteadily, his hand reaching out and grabbing his officer cap and slipping back over his freezing head. The alien named Hanala stood as well, her hands in tight fists as she stared down the human.

"There are thirty thousand ships, just like this one waiting for our next broadcast in a month's time," was her answer. Cold as she stared down the man standing over her. "If they don't hear from us, we'll burn your planet off our maps."

Joachim dug his hands into his pocket to produce a gold cigarette box, pulling one of the expensive cigarettes out and lighting it, his thoughts wandering over to the legitimacy of the threat. Aliens with powerful weaponry and the ability to cross the stars and weren't afraid to destroy?

The Sturmbannführer nodded reluctantly, only scarcely aware of the history he was writing.


	2. Civility

**Chapter Two: Civility**

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"My God, Joachim. Do you understand what you have found out there? Actual intelligent life hidden amongst the stars… this is beyond anything I ever imagined possible."

Joachim Hoch sighed slightly as he took the comfortable seat being offered by his superior officer, Standartenführer Gerald Langer, who still staring wide eyed at the hastily written report thrown together as the doctor stitched together Hoch's leg wound - courtesy of a woman of all things. He winced as he tried to stretch his leg out but failed.

He was in a complete daze for the past few days. The crash site had been secured and in all likelihood being shipped off to the safest place to store such a thing -Vienna, Austria where an environment was being set up for the aliens to exist in on a permanent basis.

For now, the aliens and he were set up in an old Polish barracks in Krakow, but after a while of isolation he was happy to be in Ostya Palace for some well-earned rest and recovery. The hotel was converted into an SS gathering place. Somewhere they could share their stories and formulate plans for the future, away from the prying eyes of the Heer, who was always suspicious of the paramilitary organization that was creeping into their sphere of influence.

Joachim could not blame Heer for their behaviour. Especially when _they_ were the future of the Fatherland's armed forces. The Heer was a relic of the past. To be honoured, certainly, but it lacked the sort of convictions needed for their crusade against Bolshevism.

As for the aliens, there were only three of them... As it turned out, there had been more than twenty of these aliens; however the others died in the crash. As much as Joachim wanted to have them removed from the suits to figure out what exactly hid inside them, the captain stared him down, yet again issuing the threat she had made earlier.

Burning the Earth to a cinder... It was a chance he would not take. He would have them stored in coolers for the supposed return of her fleet.

"How high up the command chain has this news been disclosed to?" The Sturmbannführer inquired and he accepted the tall glass of Schnapps being handed to him. Gerald Langer took a seat in front of him, behind his desk, his fingers holding a cigarette.

"Reichsführer Himmler has been made aware of the discovery; he is reluctant to tell the Führer, however," Langer returned, finally lighting his cigarette. "With very good reason as well it seemed. Herr Reichsführer understands that this is a matter of delicacy. The Führer will undoubtedly want to flaunt the find to the world. As intelligent as our Führer is, we must be the ones that handle these aliens for the time being."

Hoch agreed with the Standartenführer's sentiment. The Führer, while a charming man, did have an ego... a discovery such as this could bring pause to even the war itself.

Not that that would have been a bad thing.

"That is for the best, what we need is complete secrecy," Joachim agreed finally, setting his drink on the coaster provided for him. "Those who oppose us will fight tooth and nail to steal this opportunity from us, twist the aliens into their viewpoints. Should this go wrong, I don't want to imagine the consequences of the alien captain's words... burning our world off their maps.. it is unthinkable."

Langer nodded gravelly, his eyes turning down to Hoch's injured thigh, which was tightly wrapped in bandage underneath a brand new pair of pants.

"How is your leg, Joachim?"

Joachim chucked humourlessly and glanced at the wound he received. The injury was still pulsing in a grinding agony he dared not voice out loud in fear of an assumption of weakness,

"It'll be fine..." he murmured to his superior, mentor and friend.

Langer smiled slightly and opened the drawer of his desk, pulling out a file and sliding it towards Hoch; who took it and opened the file, Immediately he was greeted to the sight of sight of the seal of the Allgemeine-SS – the civilian branch of the Schutzstaffel. More specifically it belonged to the RSHA - Reich Main Security Office, which handled internal security.

"Your new orders, Sturmbannführer," The Standartenführer elaborated for him. "The Reichsführer has directed that you take the reins of the aliens for the foreseeale future, since you already established contact with that earpiece, especially the woman, the leader, this captain."

Joachim nodded blankly as he carefully inspected the orders, signed by the hand of Himmler himself. Essentially it was an order for a charm campaign. He would serve as a host to the beings, in particular the Captain. It was certainly a change up from the usual M.O of the SS. Well... it was for the best he be assigned, at least there was a connection to him with the non-humans, even if it had involved violence.

"In the meantime, I'll be sending out the order for all linguists to be gathered from the fatherland and our occupied territories," Langer sighed, almost sounding weary at the prospect. "We need to understand their language and fast."

Taking a sip of the drink again, Hoch leaned back into his chair.

"You might need to scrape most of the linguists out of those... labour camps..." he mused darkly. "Even then, I doubt they'll want to help."

If the remark earned a scowl, Joachim did not see it. Instead the Colonel simply leaned into his seat as Hoch had been doing.

"You know, Hoch, Helena was wondering when I could invite you along to dinner," Langer informed the only mildly interested Sturmbannführer, changing the subject. "I must insist you join us, if only to get her off my back. If I did not know better, I would think she has been quite taking by you."

Joachim turned his eyes up from the Reichsführer orders.

"Is that an order, Standartenführer?"

Gerald Langer could only grin knowingly. It was no secret that his eldest daughter, Helena Langer had taken a shine on him recently, she was no more than 19 and she was quite fetching he had to admit. Still... it felt wrong; she was a daughter of his commander and his friend; a man whom he had come to consider next to his own blood.

Still though, if Gerald seemed to approve... at least through Helena the bond between the two men would finally be official.

"Just be there by six, my wife and the rest of the children will no doubt want to see you again as well," the older man nearly ordered, his grin ever widening, "They want tales of the Eastern Front. So be ready to be a big hero. I suggest you wear your Iron Cross; Helena would go crazy for it. As for the limp, well... you were singlehandedly fending off a Soviet raid on a children's orphanage... those heartless Bolshevik heartless bastards!"

The door opened as the two men shared a laugh. Gerald and Joachim turned back and found themselves staring at a Heer Obersoldat, dressed in foul smelling and grimy battle fatigues, his camouflaged Stahlhelm still latched to his head like a symbiotic life form, and on his shoulder was a mud caked Karabiner rifle. He was very tall and very thin, his square jaw set tightly as he stared at the two men with almost a childlike ignorance.

The face came back to Joachim, making the major frown slightly. He was the Hanomag gunner that that had spotted the craft through the blinding snow storm.

"Umm... Herr Standartenführer?" the Obersoldat stammered out. "Ah, _Heil Hitler_..."

The Heer Obersoldat snapped out a half-hearted Party salute, which wasn't returned to the younger man. Instead the two officers shared a brief look. Finally Langer arose and saluted back, stepping around the desk and joining the intimidated young man.

"Obersoldat Fuhrmann, I'm glad you made it." Langer greeted offering his hand. "I have a new assignment for you. I trust you remember Sturmbannführer Hoch?"

As Fuhrmann nodded his head in confirmation, he glanced down to the still sitting Sturmbannführer, who in turn rose his glass of schnapps slightly and inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the soldier's presence.

"You have been promoted to Unteroffizier and thus been reassigned to serve under Sturmbannführer Hoch's command for the time being," Langer spoke again after the casual greeting. "He needs an adjutant for his assignment, so do get fitted for a new uniform at the clerk station and report back to him... and please, young man... don't be afraid to commandeer the showers. I assure you, we can spare you the water."

Fuhrmann glanced down at his grimy battle dress and nodded self-consciously, very much aware how out of place he looked in the presence of the two immaculately dressed and well groomed Waffen-SS officers. Again he saluted and departed quickly, leaving the Standartenfuhrer and the Sturmbannführer alone in the office once more.

"Quite a nervous lad, isn't he?" Gerald finally spoke as he returned to his seat. Joachim, however, raised an eyebrow.

"You want a Heer Unteroffizier doing my bidding?" he jested, grinning slightly. "The boy looks like he was dropped on the head as a child!"

Langer nodded his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips as his hand ran through his thinning hair.

"We sent you on your discovery with a squad of Heer troops simply because we did not know what to make of the report made by the Stuka pilots," Langer explained as he poured both Hoch and himself a fresh glass of brandy. "We can't trust their obedience. So we've bribed the survivors. They've been sent to occupation duty in Denmark with several Gestapo agents monitoring them."

He held his glass out, which Joachim immediately clinked with his own. They took a drink each. Langer set the glass down and smirked slightly.

"If they as much as talk to one another about the aliens, they're being transferred back to the east," Langer added. "With that sort of threat, they won't talk even if people are removing pieces of them of their bodies."

Hoch could not help himself, he cackled at the punishment.

"And they call me a hard ass," he finally got out.

The two men fell into a fit of laughter.

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What in the hell did he get himself into?

For the past half an hour a seamstress was poking and prodding him for proper measurements and gathering a new formal uniform to wear. He did not mind it; it was the first time he was touched by a woman in easily three months since his deployment.

After a shower and finally being allowed to shave his patchy beard, he felt more refreshed than he had since he first hit the mud, dodging Russian machine gun fire. It was a feeling that lasted regardless that he was now a part of some great state secret involving damn aliens of all things!

Still...this was infinitely better than being at the front line battling cold that was just as deadly as the human waves of Russians that were thrown so freely at him.

His thoughts were broken as he turned and noticed a familiar dark uniformed man stormed past where he stood inspecting himself carefully. Pushing his cap over his head, he turned and chased after the wounded, but swiftly moving Waffen-SS officer.

"Herr Sturmbannführer... _HERR HOCH_!" Fuhrman called out much louder than he intended to.

The Sturmbannführer named Joachim Hoch ceased his march and turned back to the corporal. His bemused eyes scanned Fuhrmann with the intensity of his old drill instructor; eyes of a hardened man who had seen far too much of the wars theyfought in these past few years.

"You look clean, Unteroffizier... You could use a good meal or two, however," Hoch finally observed, his almost kind in clear opposition to the expression he wore. "May I have your full name?"

Fuhrmann snapped his boots together and saluted.

"Heinrich, Heinrich Fuhrmann, Herr Sturmbannfuhrer."

The hard glare of the Waffen SS officer broke. Slowly he chuckled at the display of nervous energy.

"There's no need to stutter, Unteroffizier Fuhrmann."

Heinrich swallowed the knot building inside of his throat, still those hard eyes held over him despite the good natured chuckling.

"I-I'm sorry, Herr Sturmbannführer." He apologized, trying not to sound to meek in front of the domineering Major and his new superior officer. "It's... it's not often that I report to the SS."

Sturmbannführer Hoch raised an eyebrow, almost amused at the statement made.

"Don't worry, Corporal. I don't bite often," he assured the man before continuing his slight limp to the exit, with Heinrich at his heels. "And please, drop the ' _Herr'_. I am not in the Heer, I am not bound by silly traditions that the officer is the better of the man he commands. Address the rank; don't glorify the man behind it."

Fuhrmann could only blink. That was… unexpected.

"Heinrich, I have a few rules for you to follow," the Sturmbannführer spoke again, only glancing back to the newly minted Unteroffizier as they walked. "Most notably we do not talk about what we found. You now serve the Fatherland in a different way. Not with a weapon, but with charm and civility... our guests must be pampered to the best of our ability. Your role will be limited for the time being, following my example, doing some of my more menial tasks..."

As he signed himself out of the hotel, he gestured to the bags, one of the Polish hotel workers set down in front of him. He slipped one had into his pocket and produced a key.

"Now grab my bags and take it out to the car," Hoch spoke, gesturing to the bags "It's the dark Kübelwagen."

Fuhrmann nodded briskly and gathered the bags and the key from the Major. He stumbled to the door and headed out into the streets of Kraków. Standing on the steps of the hotel, he looked and found a dozen identical dark coloured Kübelwagen's parked in front of the steps to the building.

The Corporal groaned lowly as the joke became clear.

" _Fuck_."

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 _Krakau Rudolfskaserne_ was an old military barrack nestled into Kraków, once the homes of the Austro-Hungarian army, the barracks were abandoned shortly after the collapse of the dual kingdoms during the betrayal of 1918. No one paid it much mind, not even when there was a sudden flurry of activity that surrounded it for the past two days. Two companies of his old unit, the 2nd SS Panzer Division _'Das Reich'_ supported by a dozen armoured vehicles set up shop there, unknowingly protecting three beings the world were not ready to meet yet.

After speaking to the company commanders about their assignments, Joachim found his nerves starting to fail him. He had no more excuses now; every preparation had been checked and double checked. They may have only planned to stay here for under a week, but that did not mean he could be sloppy.

It did not take long before he found himself at the doors to the officer lounge which housed the aliens. Sitting outside the door was Heinrich Fuhrmann, who had set up a table. On it was a small plate of food, the latest issue of the _Völkischer Beobachter_ and an MP-40 -Just in case.

"Sir, the cooks have prepared dinner." The Unteroffizier informed him, gesturing to the pushcart that was concealed next to him, on it a tray of fine silver, which held three hot meals. Joachim nodded wordlessly and gathered them off the pushcart.

With three trays of dinner, potatoes, a variety of greens and even steak, now resting his arms as though he was a French waiter stereotype, the Sturmbannführer carefully stepped into the room. There was nothing at first. His ear still contained the translator they had provided him... perhaps they were asleep.

But they weren't, as soon as his eyes had time to adjust, he saw them. There, sitting in the darkest corner of the room, were the aliens, taking in a low whisper.

Well... that just would not do, in his opinion. With his forearm, the Sturmbannführer turned on the lights to their brightest, catching the aliens off guard. The two men stayed sitting, the woman however, stood up to face him.

"You're back," the Captain observed as though it needed to be pointed out.

Joachim Hoch merely smiled softy and stepped towards the table and chairs.

"I've been assigned to be your attaché for the duration of your stay. As you might recall, I am Sturmbannführer Joachim Hoch, formerly of the 2nd SS Panzer division _'Das Reich'_ ," Hoch introduced as he set the trays of food down. "I will have the distinct honour to serve as your link to this world, feel free to ask me for anything and I'll do my utmost to provide it. In the meantime, I have brought you all something to eat."

The three aliens approached and glanced at the steaming plates offered on fine French silver, the two men looked almost repulsed by the presentation. The woman however, looked up and almost seemed to bow.

"Thank you for the offer, Sturmbannführer Joachim'Hoch." She spoke diplomatically. "However we are unable to consume your offering. To be honest, we are unable to digest any food that you provide. We do have our own supplies, however. If you allow us access to the ship's crash site, we should be well stocked for the next few months."

Staring at each of the three aliens hard, Joachim decided he would put some faith into their word... her word. The concept of a woman in charge military command position was as alien to him as the aliens.

"I promise you will have it once we have evacuated it to a safer location," he assured the woman. "I recall you brought your personal effects?"

The alien nodded.

"Yes, we brought enough food tubes for a few days."

Not liking the mental image of food tubes, Joachim nodded slightly as well and sat down in front of the plates, now going cold thanks to these beings inability to eat them... it was all such a waste to him.

"Plenty of time then," Joachim spoke as he idly scraped the contents of one plate into a second. "I promise this is only temporary. We will be moving you to the city of Vienna. It's a real treat, Out of the slums of Poland and into some actual culture."

With as a charming smile as he could produce for the aliens, he stood back up, the large plate of food in his hand. Quietly he stepped back to the door and opened it slightly, finding Fuhrmann sitting at the table once again. Heinrich glanced up and noticed the tray of food being offered to him.

"Heinrich, will you do me a favour and eat this, will you?" Hoch requested, placing the tray in front of him, just under his nose.

Fuhrmann nodded blankly at the large plate of food.

"Ahh... yes Herr Sturm… I mean, Sturmbannführer. Thank you." he managed to get out, accepting the rich meal from his new CO.

With an approving chuckle and a pat on the Unteroffizier's shoulder, Hoch re-entered the room. Closing the door behind him, Hoch turned back and limped slightly back towards the old couch where the third tray was. Sitting across from it was Captain Hanala'Jarva, sitting there rigid as a board as she stared at the approaching man.

"Nice limp," she observed, her voice biting with sarcasm.

Joachim arched his brow and ignored the urge to smack her across her faceplate.

"Thank you for noticing," the Sturmbannführer smirked as he glanced at his injured leg. "I imagine you must still be sore from my thrashing. You know it was the first time that I have ever hit a woman. I suppose there is a first time for everything though... Fuhrmann, please bring in my briefcase!"

It only took a moment for the door to open and in marched Fuhrmann, his eyes averted from the aliens now staring at his abrupt arrival. With a word of thanks, Hoch took the brief case and handed the Unteroffizier his hat. Ignoring the scrutinizing stare of the aliens, he opened the briefcase and retrieved a pen and his folder filled with instructions from the Reichsführer.

"Now, I have a few questions, if you do not mind," Hoch spoke to the Captain, looking up from his notes, his pen in his fingers. "Nothing specific yet, and most likely obvious to you, but please humour me, Captain."

Before the woman could speak, one of the lower ranked men moved to them.

"Not until you tell us your intentions," the deep voiced male almost growled at him, stepping in front of his captain. "Your species only pretends to be civilized, yet will wage a war over the smallest of sleights. Who's to say you will simply not kill us once you take everything we know?"

If this was an attempt to belittle or frighten the SS major, it didn't work. There did not seem anything physically threatening to him. Without their advance technology they were no different than any other man he killed in this war.

"Now, now..." Joachim wagged his finger. "My superiors have informed me that of the three of you, the only one not expendable is Captain Hanala'Jarva. So I suggest you mind your manners."

He turned to Hanala, still smiling like a shark.

"There are many worse men who could be handling you and your subordinates," Hoch continued, staring through the mask. "Men who are not so easily swayed by a vague threat you made that might or might not be simply idle. These men love violence for violence's sake... it would be a pity to have to show your friends them first hand, yes?"

Hanala broke the stare. With one look to the standing quarian, the brute stood down, though his bright eyes still glared into Joachim's. Hoch turned away, the dangerous expression slipping away as he again smiled for the woman.

"Now that we have sorted out that, I must ask what exactly are you?" Hoch inquired. As the alien tilted her head, he added. "Your species I mean. Your official classification, I am human." He said gesturing to himself. "And you are?"

We are quarian," Hanala the quarian gestured to herself. "Before you ask, we will show you more, but it will require access to the ship."

Quarian. Now he had a name to a species and here sat a quarian who was actually cooperating with his effort. She was making this task much easier than Hoch had expected it to be. There would be bumps in the road, such as he dumb looking males, but for now he could weather that.

"So you will cooperate with us?" Hoch confirmed, almost unable to shield his happiness from the quarians.

Hanala'Jarva glanced to her near mutinous subordinates.

"For the most part, yes I can cooperate," she agreed. "You must understand that there will questions you may stumble across that I cannot tell you. You answer to a commanding officer, right? Well... so do I. I hope you can respect that I will not be able to reveal anything right at that moment."

An agreement between officers? This was much better than he could have hoped for.

He leaned over the table and offered his hand. The quarian stared at it suspiciously. Finally, her hand pushed out and took his. With one shake they let go, Hoch now leaning into his chair; His SS documents forgotten as he grabbed the plate of food in front of him.

"This is most appreciated, Captain," he welcomed, picking through the dinner. "I think we will get along just fine, so long as you keep your minions on a leash."

The quarian leader nearly laughed. Smiling at his own success to break the tension, Hoch allowed silence to fall as Joachim quickly consumed the delectable dinner unable to be consumed by the quarians. Wiping his lips with his handkerchief he looked back up to the Captain, whose eyes never left him.

"Now..." he continued, smiling invitingly to the quarians. "Is there anything you wish to learn?"

As it turned out, the quarians had a lot on their minds.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **To add: This will not just be a cleaning of the story, but there will most likely be parts cut out, or added in. There are things from later stories that should have been addressed earlier. One change I wish I could make was to the romance itself. I had only intended on a three story series for the original trilogy. Obviously that did not happen, but the romance was based back then on the assumption I was 1/3** **rd** **the way through the series.**

 **If I could do it over again, Hanala and Hoch wouldn't be a thing until later Revolution**


	3. Private Words

**Chapter Three: Private Words**

 **...**

"This is insane. Why couldn't that bastard, Kal done a significantly more intensive safety check on the mass drive core, we would not be stuck in the hands of these... these authoritarians."

"He's dead now, Lieutenant. The dead do not get our scorn; they already paid dearly for their errors…"

Sturmbannführer Joachim'Hoch left no more than an hour or so ago. For several hours he spent fielding answers to questions. From the reasons to the war that had erupted almost three years prior. He explained the rise of the political party known as the National Socialists. He spoke of their policies of legalized racism. He explained how certain ethnic groups were being deported to foreign lands since 1936.

He explained that the war was one of survival for his people. He did not go into detain, but Hanala could see the spark of near fanaticism when he spoke of the battles he helped win for his " _Fatherland_." It gave Hanala quite the impression of the man the National Socialists placed as an ambassador and prison guard to them.

He was arrogant, that fact was not in question, he was however a brave man. Arrogant yes, but he had the spine to back up his words. It took a lot of foolish bravery for a technologically inferior soldier, who did not even wear body armour, to full out assault their position. Though she thought it was commendable, as would the Admiralty Board, Martus'Xen vas Devoas did not feel quite the same way.

"These humans... these National Socialists..." he spat, turning away from the pilot and to his Captain. "They're like the turian hierarchy minus the good public relations campaign. Bastards, the whole lot of them."

Hanala sighed and wished that he would take a cue from Galas'Yoad vas Devoas, the pilot of the Devoas and simply shut his mouth and let the Captain be in command.

"Martus keep your temper in check or I'll take Sturmbannführer Hoch's offer and have you witness the less pleasant side of human hospitality." Hanala groaned, wishing that he would just shut up for all their sakes.

The warning did not deter the man. If anything it served to fuel his rage.

"I bet he would torture his own mother, goddamn monster. Forget him and his whole damn ideology," Martus spoke once more out of turn. "These... humans ought to be abandoned on this world. Quarantined and forgotten, just like the krogan should have been the moment the salarians found them."

Hanala snapped her head up, glaring furiously at the near mutinous navigator.

"Yes, because we are so much more civilized then they are." The Captain snapped at her irritating navigator. "Whether you agree to it or not, we're planning to force another species to go through a major and sudden technological advancement, so we can use them as cannon fodder against a machine race we built then decided to exterminate over and again."

She laughed humourlessly.

"Look at it this way, at least the National Socialist Party and Germany as a whole are up front about their arrogance," she muttered, turning away from Martus. "Can we make such a claim as well?"

Martus'Xen did not reply to the charge, with one last withering glare, he left, heading to his corner of the room as though he had been a spoiled brat told off about his behaviour. Galas'Yoad on the other hand, stood there, no attention granted to him during the furious words.

The Captain remained silent. She turned away, taking a seat on the closest chair.

"I don't think he was honest with us." Hanala spoke up suddenly, not speaking to anyone in particular. "Hoch did not lie, but he was keeping something to himself. Like it was official doctrine, but he doesn't feel connected to it."

"Captain's intuition?"

Hanala looked up and found that Galas was still standing there.

"Perhaps," she admitted dolefully. "Go and sleep Galas. We must get use to this 24 hours planetary rotation. We'll be living here for quite a while."

Galas nodded and slightly saluted her. Before he went to his bunk, he paused and turned back to face his commanding officer.

"Do you think they will come?" he asked his Captain, attempting and failing to hide to worry in his voice. "The Fleet, do you think they will seek us out?"

Hanala did her best not to appear too worried about their situation.

"They will come," Hanala promised the pilot, not able to believe her own words. "Our search is over."

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

Heinrich Fuhrmann sighed, his hand digging into his pocket to produce his father's pocket watch, given to him by his proud father the day he was sent east to fight the Russians. His father never saw the first war. He was fifteen years old by the time the war drew to a close. So for his son to be given such an honour to fight for the Fatherland brought him pride he did not have before.

Pride... his father was a young enough man to still enlist into the Wehrmacht auxiliary, a fact that fell on deaf ears.

5:38 PM. Dinnertime back home in Fürstenfeldbruck, the place of his birth, where he lived until he received his call from the Fatherland to enlist. Thankfully the English and their terror air attacks against civilians had not found a way to penetrate that deep in to Germany, sparing his family from the hardships that were just beginning for the North Germans.

Still, the pang in the pit of his stomach longed that he could be at home.

Perhaps his assignment would allow him some leave. Munich was no more than 350 kilometers from Vienna, an unimaginable distance to him when he was a boy. Such feelings vanished when he found himself marching across the endless Russian steppes.

A knock on the door made the Unteroffizier jump slightly in his seat. He glanced up to the door wearily.

It was the aliens.

They wanted something and they needed to talk to him. Heinrich groaned slightly. Why did Major Hoch have to leave? He wanted nothing to do with the creatures that killed Alois, Karl and Fredrick not a few days ago. His friends, they survived so much until they had an encounter with these beings...

Heinrich sighed. He had a good thing going with this SS officer. He was oddly generous to him, something that was truly an oddity considering their vastly different ranks. It must have been an SS thing. He could never imagine a Heer officer doing such a thing.

He stood and pushed the key into the lock, he pulled the door open. Standing there was the alien leader, the female one. Her arms were crossed as she simply stared at the human. The electronic hiss erupted from her exotic helmet mouth piece and the next thing he knew he was in a one sided conversation with this alien.

"Um, hello?" he managed to get out, trying his best not to appear too confused at the barrage of alien chirping.

Finally she paused and seemed to be debating something to herself. Finally she looked up to the lost looking man.

"Joachim'Hoch." Her voice formed the only word that made sense to the assistant. Fuhrmann's eyebrows raised as the name sounded so alien, even for an alien.

"Sturmbannführer Hoch?"

The alien woman nodded her head.

"You want me to get Sturmbannführer Hoch?" Heinrich clarified feeling suddenly very stupid as he added. "Do you even understand me... nod if you can."

The alien crossed her arms and glared darkly at him. The stare was concealed but those eyes... they glowed like cigarettes as they burned into him. Fuhrmann nodded and turned away, his attention focusing away from the alien and onto the desk where Major Hoch had left him his instructions for the night.

"He's at a dinner with his Commanding Officer... "he spoke as he read from the memo. He glanced up and added. "I'll go get him; I think he left an address."

Finding an address in the more upscale neighbourhoods in Kraków, he gave a small victorious laugh before turning back up to face the alien staring at him.

"Yes... here it is," he spoke up unenthusiastically, his finger pointing to the piece of paper. "I'll have him here in a few hours... if you don't mind... "

He gestured to the room where the woman was being held in. He stared at her waiting for her to submit. Finally she bowed her head slightly and turned away, stepping out of the doorway and back inside the officer's lounge. Fuhrmann locked the door and pulled his field cap.

Taking one last look in the mirror, he was happy that this time he would not look like a slob in front of Sturmbannführer Hoch and his Standartenfuhrer.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

"Say good night to Uncle Joachim, children!"

For what felt like the tenth time that night, Joachim found himself the center of attention for Gerald Langer's brood of young children, Three young girls: Hilde, Frieda and Geli and two boys: Peter and Wilhelm. Each girl gave him a kiss, each boy, a firm handshake and a salute.

Then there was the fourth girl. Helena...

He did not include Helena into that that list for good reason. The first reason was that she was purposely asked to remain at the table by her father, if only to watch Joachim's discomfort at her, the second was because of the way she held those green eyes of her on him. They made him somewhat afraid of her intentions. As though she was making a future that involved him siring her children...

"How you managed to raise charming children after factoring in Gerald is beyond me, Lene," Joachim finally spoke as he placed his glass down and smiling politely to the second woman in front of him.

Helena and the older version of Helena, Lene Langer both laughed at the expense of their father and husband. Even the older Colonel had a mildly doleful expression from the somewhat scathing observation. He was red in the face, but Joachim chalked it up to the many drinks they shared together,

"Oh now, Joachim, you know how busy my Gerald is," Lene Langer chastised her fingers playful smacking his hand. "He thinks he's winning the war all by himself..."

Before Hoch could refute the claim and say that the war wasn't being won by old men sitting behind a desk, a sudden knock on the door caught everyone's attention. Smiling faintly to the table, Lene stood up, straightening out her dress as she stepped softly towards the door. In the meantime, Gerald poured the Major another drink.

Still, the younger girl simply stared at him. She had not uttered a single word to him... God, it was odd to bear witness too.

Lene returned, smiling faintly as a second set of feet followed behind her, the unforgettable thud of jackboots stepping on hardwood floors.

"Gerald, Joachim, I believe you know Unteroffizier Fuhrmann," she introduced, gesturing to the bashful looking young man, who had the older woman hanging off his arm as she guided him to the kitchen. Gerald and Joachim shared a slight smirk. Making this poor boy uncomfortable was growing to be great new amusement for them.

"Thank you, Frau Langer." He mumbled as he suddenly found himself now being stared at by Helena Langer, hers on him with the near longing she held for Joachim no more than a few minutes ago. Before the corporal could comprehend it, Lene tugged his forage cap from off his head.

"Welcome to my home, Unteroffizier Fuhrmann, please, do sit and join us." Langer greeted, gesturing to the seat next to Hoch. "Helena, Lene, would you go see to the dessert, and be sure to bring Unteroffizier Fuhrmann a slice of cake as well."

Nodding, Lene smiled and gathered the plates, leaving without a single word. It took a little longer for Helena to leave, her eyes now no longer focused on Hoch, but onto Fuhrmann, who appeared obvious to the attention now drawn to him. She too left, leaving the soldiers behind. Gerald could not help himself, he chuckled.

"Hmmm, it seems I was wrong, old friend," he gaffed as he leaned back into his seat. "Helena has a real interest for those Heer uniforms and not your Iron Cross. How old are you, Unteroffizier?"

Hoch rolled his eyes as he offered a smoke to both his host and his adjutant NCO. Langer accepted, Fuhrmann, who appeared to be blushing, shook his head politely at the offering.

"Nineteen, Herr Standartenführer." The corporal muttered, his words only earning an even wider grin from the older SS officer.

"A better age than this old codger, that is for certain," Hh crowed gesturing to Hoch as said Sturmbannführer lit his cigarette. Joachim ignored the barb, yes, five years was quite a difference when the girl had not even reached her twenties yet. Fin ally it seemed to get through to Langer at long last.

"What was it, Fuhrmann, before you so rudely stole my future bride...?" Hoch mumbled as he slipped a cigarette into his lips.

Heinrich glanced around, almost worried of being overheard.

"Your... guest has asked to see you as soon as you can." He spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.

Langer's mouth widened into an awful grin.

"Your guest has called for you?" Langer repeated, his eyes suddenly looking very interested as a smile of devious knowing slipped across his lips. "I see... perhaps your tastes are a bit more exotic than I first imagined."

Joachim closed his eyes, choosing to ignore the lewd inference made. Thankfully he spared from denial as both Lene and Helena returned to the dining room, Hands clutching plates of rich looking dark chocolate cake.

"Here we go, Joachim, Herr Fuhrmann." Helena finally spoke, handing the two men a piece each. She lingered on Fuhrmann, who seemed very out of place at the table.

Trying not to smirk too much, Joachim turned to Frau Langer.

"This looks absolutely decadent, Lene. I must however have to decline. I'm afraid I've been called back on duty," he glanced at the Unteroffizier and added. "Please if you don't mind, cut an extra slice off for Heinrich here." He added, gesturing to Fuhrmann. "He's fresh from Russia and could certainly use some fattening up."

Without so much as waiting for approval from Fuhrmann, Lene pushed the cake from off the plate intended for Hoch and onto Heinrich who stared almost resigned to it.

"Oh... please, I just had a huge din-..." He tried to get out, only to get caught off guard by Lene's appraising stare. IOt was an expression that Joachim ahd learned to fear. Quick on the uptake, and in a much more meek tone, Heinrich added. "Okay, thank you, Frau Langer."

As Lene charmed the room with her smile once again, Hoch stood up, his hand slapping against the Unteroffizier's back.

"Extra cake and a pretty girl's sudden devotion and yet you complain? Something is wrong with that," Hoch mused, getting a renewed laughter from the family. "Thank you for the dinner, Lene; it was perfect," he tacked on, his lips faintly touching the housewife's cheek. "I will see you tomorrow, Gerald."

Langer nodded and shook Hoch hand. Politely nodding to both his adjutant and Helena, who barely acknowledged him, he departed, Lene Langer following him closely. They moved in silence until they reached the front door.

"I don't know what's gotten into that girl." Lene spoke, sounding somewhat concerned on his behalf for the sudden rejection that took place. "I'm sorry if you had any sort of interest in her. Gerald has been convinced this was the way to get you in our family. I keep telling him you already are, but it neer seems like it is enough."

Chuckling at the concern Lene showed, Joachim shook off the kind mother's apologies as he pulled his long overcoat back over his body.

"Feelings are fickle at that age. It does not help how too busy I am these days." He mused, not bothered by the loss of interest the girl had in him. "Besides for a Heer man, Fuhrmann is not too bad. Thank you again, Lene. I truly cannot overstate how wonderful dinner was."

Receiving a kiss on the cheek from the suddenly blushing housewife, the Sturmbannführer left the Langer residence and quickly found himself in his car, driving back to his assignment.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

It took several hours to reach _Krakau Rudolfskaserne_. There had been a partisan bomb attack against a truckload of soldiers, killing many. As a result of the attack, many more checkpoints were set up, making traffic terrible, even for a member of the SS. It would not surprise the Joachim if some of the stops were made because was the SS. The Heer weren't often courteous to their colleagues.

With one final identification check, thankfully done by a Scharführer assigned to the front gate, he was now back where he would live, amongst the quarians, who seemed to have gotten quite comfortable enough to beckon for his presence now.

Reaching the door to the officer lounge, he took the key commandeered from Fuhrmann, most likely still fraternizing with Helena Langer; he opened it, finding the room almost dark, except for one light on next to the window.

There sitting in a seat facing the window, was Captain Hanala'Jarva. Her strange hands latched together as she quietly peered out of the window almost longingly.

Joachim cleared his throat.

"Can't sleep?"

The quarian looked up, her mask reflecting his face off the plate glass. Hoch allowed her a slight smile and stepped forward, pulling his officer cap from off his head and tucking it underneath his arm. Slowly, the quarian stood up from her seat and stepped forwards to him, her hands latched together.

"Greetings, Sturmbannführer Hoch." The woman whispered diminutively. Her voice usually full of command had lost its edge. The smile on Joachim's lips curved into a frown as he too stepped forward, his head tilted.

"I was told you needed to see me, has something happened, Captain?" Joachim inquired; he dropped his own edge, allowing a trickling of humanity to touch into his words.

The quarian shook her head.

"No..." the quarian started. She trailed off, huffed slightly and added. "Yes... I am having some difficulties sleeping. Standard quarian days are 36 hours. Because we are not on the home world, we can maintain that schedule. Not so on your world."

 _36 hour days_? Adapting to a much shorter day must have been truly difficult. Silently, Joachim reached out and touched her shoulder, receiving Hanala's attention once more.

"There is... more that troubles me," she continued pulling back from his touch. "I... I do not wish to discuss it in front of my remaining crew."

Hoch nodded his head.

"Of course, how about you join me for a walk around the grounds," Joachim offered, gesturing back to the door. "We'll have a discussion as you wish."

The woman seemed to debate the offer. Her arms crossed as she simply stared at him finally.

"Are you on duty? Will this be in your reports on us?" she inquired, gesturing to his uniform as though it symbolized everything he stood for. Hoch again half smiled in her direction and stepped forward.

"Not tonight, Captain," he assured Hanala. "I promise you, you will have my complete discretion."

The quarian nodded reluctantly. With a light smirk, the Sturmbannfuhrer gestured to Captain to join him.

Together, the two of them departed. Not noticing the stares of a still awake quarian watching them.

...

* * *

...

"I'm surprised that your assistant is not trailing us, Sturmbannführer Hoch. A rifle in his hand making sure that the frightening quarian does not escape into the night. He's pretty... timid for someone his size."

A sudden laugh from the human brought a smirk to her face.

"I left him in the company of a nice, if obsessive, young woman. I do not think I would be able to tear him away even if I gave the order. I'll be lenient with him for the time being. He's fresh from the Soviet Union. It is a most terrible place to be."

Captain Hanala'Jarva, formerly of the Devoas sighed as she walked side by side with the human, Major Hoch as they traversed the snow covered grounds of the barracks. She did not know how many men had been stationed to watch her and her subordinates, but she felt that it was probably far too many men then was needed.

Hanala never witnessed this season before... well any season firsthand really. She never left the fleet to be honest until she was assigned to keep tabs on earth eight human months ago. Her parents used the last of their credits to purchase a ship for the fleet on her behalf; a ship that was now being picked over by the curious and apparently adaptive humans.

She glanced over to Sturmbannführer Joachim'Hoch, whose eyes were staring off. She wondered just how difficult all of this really must have been. Hanala may have never had encountered alien life, but at least she knew about he the species they shared the galaxy with. Joachim, was the first human to have ever have extension contact with someone other than human.

"May I make a query?" he suddenly spoke up, his voice polite as always.

Hannah nodded, saying no wouldn't have deterred him for long as she had just come to realize.

"I would not wish to offend. But I would like to ask you about your suit." Sturmbannführer Hoch inquired, gesturing to the environmental suit. "Do you live in it on a permanent basis?"

From behind her faceplate, Hanala frowned at the question asked. She knew that this question was bound to come up sooner rather than later. She just wasn't sure if she wanted to answer it or not. It was a question that had to be very delicately answered.

"The suit is purely precautionary. Quarian immune systems are naturally weak in environments outside of our home world." She explained slowly, noticing Hoch intense interest. "Theoretically, I don't need it, but it's better to wear it and adapt my body to this world slowly. The sterile environment of space and ships would quickly destroy our immune system if we were ever forced off our world."

 _If_...

She didn't feel particularly bad for lying about it. She could not very well reveal that the quarians were a virtually endangered species and now pariahs in the eyes of the rest of the galaxy for what happened during the geth uprising and eventual extermination of her people.

It was better that the admirals explained what had happened. Not she, the topic was very sore with all quarians. A feeling that would only grow for each year they were exiled... She could not imagine the rage felt if this exile lasted one hundred, two hundred... let alone three hundred years.

"Do you believe in it?" Hanala suddenly blurted out. "Your government's policy of racial superiority? Do you believe in it?"

Hoch's blue eyes blinked at her as though she had asked the stupidest possible thing.

"Of course I do," The Sturmbannführer admitted as he glanced out towards the small body of water hey were approaching. "I believe that nation's policies as a whole are guided by some harsh form of Darwinism... evolution." He elaborated when he noticed her tilt her head. "The nations that were crushed under our boots deserved their fate for being so spineless. Blood factors into the strength of nation just as much. The mongrelisation of France and America has done them no favours. They are united only by what their governments say and enforce. Without that one chain around their neck, they have nothing else to unify under."

It was Hanala's turn to blink at the answer she never expected.

"It took a month to take this nation, Poland." Hoch continued, gesturing to the land they stood on. "It took eighteen days to take Belgium, a day each for Denmark and Luxemburg, a week for the Netherlands, sixty two for Norway, forty five days to conquer France, a world power that not two decades prior held us at bay for an entire war. This astounding victory over the west was made possible by clarity of vision of the Führer Adolf Hitler, and the unity of the pure German people under his guidance. Without it we would be as weak as they were."

He trailed off and stared at her darkly. There was no trace of kindness or charm. It was just fanaticism that she had never seen before in her life.

"Besides," he added, looking away, "If they could not stop us, why should have we relented?"

Hanala stared at the Sturmbannführer faintly. This aggression... the Admiralty Board would have a field day... This was exactly what they were hoping to find and shape into a space fairing power...

"So, they were weak and lost everything and you were strong and so you gained everything," the Captain mused, her voice suddenly distant. "I imagine you would see as much fight in the same ranks as your assistant without chooses this branch of service."

Glancing his way, she opened her eyes and noticed Joachim'Hoch, his officer cap off as he rubbed his soft looking dark hair. On his face was a sudden and strange distant look that ran contrary to the fanaticism she saw earlier. It was an expression that she had borne witness too many time. As a child, whenever her father and mother fell into thoughts about the exile.

 _Grief_.

"I was born in 1918, I'm the youngest of four brothers, Captain. They died in 1916 and 1917." He voiced his thoughts to her finally, as his hand touched against the back of his neck. "My father served as well. He lost his arm in the opening months of the Great War."

Hanala's eyes widened at the picture he painted. She did not need to know the battles or war to know what he was getting at.

"The French took his arm in 1914. Then, in 1924, they took his life during the occupation of the Ruhr," Hoch continued voice low and strangely thoughtful. "All because our country was on the verge of collapse paying for a war that we did not start, a war that was apparently solely our fault."

A pang of sudden and unexpected pity came to the quarian Captain. Joachim Hoch, it appeared, was a victim of fate, born in a nation, during a time of great upheaval. Hanala sighed... she felt as though she was in the situation as he. They were both paying for their parents and grandparents mistakes.

"Anyways, I joined the SS in 1935, out of foolish pride perhaps, but also because they were a fresh, new military organization who did not want to forget what happened to our people. Most importantly they did not have the stain on them as the Heer did from the last war. The men leading it were common soldiers back then," he pressed on. "Ultimately, the SS wanted to restore pride into German strength. They wanted revenge on the nations that imposed a peace through humiliating us... this war... it was bound to happen when a people is so terribly treated."

"There's no illusion of who started this war this time it seems." Hanala observed as delicately as she could.

Hoch glanced at her and nodded grimly.

"You're right," was his grimly spoken agreement, "If this war ends badly, we will suffer much more than we ever did during the betrayal of 1918."

They continued their wandering in silence for several minutes along the shoreline of a frozen pond. Hanala glanced over and glanced at the Major who appeared to have been silently brooding to himself.

"So... you're in this for the past… not for yourself, really, do you really think this makes what happened to your family any better?" The quarian spoke again, breaking the brooding with the question posed.

Hoch remained stone faced and refused to address the question. Perhaps that was understandable position. They were diving deep into areas even she didn't really ant to hear about.

"Anyways, I spent a few years in the guard, When the fighting broke out, I joined I joined SS-VT, which became the Waffen-SS," he went on, smiling finally after their awkward pause. "I guess liked to fight and I liked to win, so the transfer made sense."

Hanala tilted her head slightly, looking briefly up to the taller human.

"You're a very simple man under that uniform, aren't you?"

At long last, Hoch laughed. He didn't just laugh, he belly laughed.

The laugh was infectious, Hanala joined him and together the two military officers laughed at his expense. Insulting ones intelligence, it appeared transcended species.

Hanala's laughter ended abruptly, as she gave a sudden quake and a small hiss. The cold was starting to get to her. Not as cold as it had been at the crash site, but still bothered her greatly. Her race was not built for the cold like humans appeared to be.

This was not lost on Hoch; his hand pushed out and gripped her bicep.

"Are you cold in that suit?" the Sturmbannführer inquired, appearing concerned about the sudden shaking his could see. Suddenly embarrassed that the cold of all things lowering another layer of defense she set up.

She nodded her head stiffly.

"I burned out the environment regulators during the crash landing," she explained, doing her utmost not to shiver audibly in front of the Sturmbannführer.

Hanala could feel Hoch's eyes focus on her. Before she knew it, Hoch pulled off his long, Grey overcoat and without a further moment's hesitation; he wrapped it around her shoulders with great care.

"Here, take this then," Hoch lowly spoke as his hands reached around and buttoned the jacket up for her. "I do not need nor I imagine you would want is to freeze to death in this god awful nation."

Hanala stared at the simple gesture offered to. It made her feel better... like this situation she was in wasn't as bad as it appeared. They were captured, yes, but they weren't prisoners. They were guests that really did need to be shielded for their own good. Humans were not ready to make first contact just yet.

But it was good that at least one human was.

"Tell me about your home world, Hanala'Jarva?" he pressed on; now smiling despite the cold was clearly getting to him now. "I do not need specifics. I just would like to know what it's like."

Hanala pushed her arms into the jacket sleeves, she thought about the question posed. The thoughts of Rannoch ate away at her. Beyond pictures and tales from her parents, she did not know much about Rannoch. As she grew older, her hopes for seeing her lost home world were quickly fading away. Thinking about it, really thinking about it, even if the humans accepted the uplifting, it would take many decades before they were caught up, before both people were ready for such a tremendous undertaking.

So many years that Hanala no longer believed she would live to see them...

Fighting back the mist in her eyes, she finally looked up to the still waiting Major.

"It's beautiful, Hoch," was all she could say.

Joachim did not ask for more details. Instead his hand touched against the back of the overcoat she wore. There were no words as he led her back into the barrack.

...

 **Changes:**

 **Joachim and the Langers**

 **I always felt the first interaction between Joachim and the Langer family as stiff, formal, especially between Lene and Joachim. Lene plays an important role in Joachim's life, and I didn't characterize it as well as I thought it was.**

 **Martus'Xen and Galas**

 **He didn't need a scene for himself to bitch and moan. Galas didn't need to throw in a cheap 'Nazis dress cool!" joke. These sorts of section sized deletions will probably happen in the future as well.**

 **Joachim and Hanala:**

 **Most notable change of all. I always felt like I was copping out about Joachim's level of commitment to the SS. Kind of like I was downplaying it out of fear of the response. Joachim is a OG SS man. He's not some poor post 1942 draftee. He is a believer. I think it'll go better with the character evolution. Another thing was how open Hoch is to a stranger. I lessened it, but again, this is a case of thinking I was only doing three stories.**

 **I'll be back at this in a few hours. Need some sleep. I'm thinking a day or two each of the first 3 stories and a little longer for the more expansive stories. I will also be updating a few things on the historical characters, things I didn't know then that I know now. Maybe, if it doesn't get too expansive.**


	4. Promises Always Honoured

**Chapter Four: Promises Always Honoured**

...

Vienna. They were finally in Vienna, just as Joachim'Hoch had promised them.

There was a feeling to the city that Kraków simply did not have: Life. It did not feel broken like Poland; it felt like this strange war had not touched this majestic city. It was cold here, yes, Snow was falling, but the star that shone over Earth was peaking from out of the clouds above. It was a climate much preferable to dreary Poland or frozen wasteland Russia.

Above almost every building flew a dark red flag with a white circle in the middle. In that circle a jagged looking symbol known as a swastika as Hoch explained to her. The flag was that of the German Third Reich, the flag of the National Socialists Party. It was… an oddly enthralling, almost... hypnotic in some sense.

Hanala would never admit it however. She needed a clear head. She was to be representative of quariankind for the next three weeks. She had to be strong.

The car being driven by Unteroffizier Fuhrmann, who had slowed down to a halt briefly at the request of Hoch; Hanala tilted her head to the side. There approaching them was an immaculately dressed soldier approaching them; black uniformed, white gloves, a steel angular helmet on his head, a wooden rifle slung over his shoulder and the runic swastika armband on display that told the world where his allegiance laid.

They spoke briefly, the Unteroffizier offering identification that was taken, scrutinized then handed back. The guard stepped away, waving them through the guard station and into the perimeter of the new facility where they would be held in.

As they pulled into the winding road to the facility, she glanced out the window on Hoch's side. Her eyes widened significantly. She had expected a cold facility like the barracks they were held in. Not a majestic looking palace at the heart of this city.

Hoch glanced to her. He noticed the shock and gently nudged her.

"Naturhistorisches Museum Wien, Captain," he explained simply. "You will learn all you ever need to know about the Earth through this new home."

Hanala could not help but smile and nodded at the explanation. He seemed to think she was a xenoanthropologist and not a military officer who crashed here by mistake. She watched silently as they passed another guard post, this time with a huge armoured vehicle stationed there, the same kind that nearly threatened to blow Galas and Martus up.

Fuhrmann slowed the car down to a halt as they reached the front steps to the majestic building. He pulled himself out of the car and moved around to Hoch's door, opening it on his behalf.

Joachim turned back to her.

"Stay in the car, I'll get everything sorted out first."

Hanala nodded her head as Hoch left the staff car and closed the door behind him. She watched silently as two men approached Hoch and came to a stop. Salutes were shared among them and many words that Hanala could not hear. Finally Hoch turned away and leaned down, opening the door. Hoch's head popped inside and glanced at Xen and Galas briefly before focusing finally on Hanala.

"You're free to come out."

Hoch pulled back and stood up right, his hand however, reached into the car and remained there, offered to Hanala. Glancing at the disinterested Galas and to a glowering Xen, Hanala took it and pulled herself from out of the car, sunlight smacking into her visor and blinding her sensitive eyes briefly.

Gathering her senses, she turned back, Hoch's arm had moved, it was now looped into hers as he carefully pulled her along to the two men staring at her wide eyed. One man, older, baring a grey uniform much like Joachim's, he appeared nearly as receptive as Hoch. The other one was black as the night. He lacked the same sort of hospitality.

"Captain Hanala'Jarva, may I introduce you to my superior, Standartenführer Gerald Langer," Hoch spoke, breaking Hanala's stare.

She turned to the smiling grey uniformed man and shook the hand offered.

Hoch turned, gestured to the younger man, adding, "My new second in command Hauptsturmführer Waechter. He will be the captain of the guard. All of whom, know what they are watching over."

Waechter snapped into a sharp salute, his hand flinging high into the air, surprising the quarian captain. He retracted, and turned to her, his mouth forming a smirk. It was not the amused smirk that she noticed Hoch do. It was condescending.

"We are a hundred men strong, Fräulein." He nearly simpered, "You'll be well watched over..."

Hanala blinked. Did this... this bosh'tet refer to her as a... a maiden? Like she was just a mere little girl well over her head? Over her head, perhaps, but she was no child. Before she could react to the blatant sexism, Hoch stepped forward, his face forming a glare she had saw once before when he was kicking her after she stabbed him.

"She's a captain, the equivalent to your rank. Respect that." Hoch reminded the man, his eyes glaring at him.

Waechter bit back the urge to say anything. Instead he simply saluted and marched away back towards the museum, leaving Hoch fuming. Hanala bowed her head slightly, a faint feeling of gratitude for the Major to head off the arrogant bosh'tet.

Langer sighed.

"I apologize for the lack of respect shown," he apologized in a much stronger tone, he added. "On behalf of Reichsführer Himmler and by extension the Führer himself, we greet you to the Reich. You are our most welcomed guest. "

Hanala glanced to Hoch, who was the only man that she could communicate with.

"I'm just a ship's captain whose engines crashed," she admitted ruefully. "The fleet will be here soon enough. They are far better position to speak for my people than I."

Hoch gave her a look a,s though he thought her words were best not repeated. She ushered him on. Hoch relented and word for word repeated what she had to him. Instead of a frown, the older man's face broke into the brightest of smiles.

"Such modesty is commendable, Captain." Langer praised warmly. "Regardless, Reichsführer Himmler has seen to it that your people made official Aryan descent. You are nearly family now."

Aryans?

Hoch blinked and looked suddenly amused by the designation whoever it was in charge had given her race.

The smile on the Standartenführer's face faltered slightly. Finally the man's hands dug into his pocket and retrieved a small cloth badge; the symbols on it were four diamonds and two bars running lengthwise. The simple mark froze the humour from off the Sturmbannführer's face.

"As for you Herr Sturmbannführer, It had been decided a week ago that you are to be promoted." Langer pressed on as his hand unbutton the insignia on him and replace it with the new one.

"Congratulations Obersturmbannführer Hoch," He pressed on, patting his arm lightly. He grinned slightly, adding. "A little abrupt, and perhaps a bit too young, but, between your service to the Fatherland against the Bolshevik menace and your new assignment, well-earned indeed."

Langer stepped back and saluted the newly promoted Joachim'Hoch. Hoch returned it and dropped his arm. Before Hanala could comprehend it, Hoch swooped in and pulled the older commanding officer into a hug, both of them suddenly laughing as though they were schoolmates.

"You old bastard," he cried out, forgetting any formality. "And just how long were you going to hide this from me!?"

Langer grinned.

"I was going to tell you at our dinner after my daughter rejected you," he admitted casually. "Then you started flirting with my wife so I figure I would wait. Captain, retrieve your men. We'll show you your new living arrangements and to your ship."

Langer turned away and followed the pathway to the museum as the guard captain had done as well, leaving Hoch and her alone together.

"My ship? We are free to see my ship?" She whispered carefully.

Hoch turned back to her, his hands resetting his rumpled uniform. He looked up and smiled at the look of shock on her face.

"I distinctly recall promising you free access." Hoch simply returned.

Gazing up at the man who held all his promises to her, Hanala turned away and fought the urge to bounce on the tip of her toes in unmitigated excitement.

...

* * *

...

"Solid food, Oh Keelah how I'm missing you!"

Hoch watched Captain Jarva's shake her head as the pilot known as Galas'Yoad nearly made a religious alter out of the rations he had just found stored away in a container. He was faintly aware where exactly he was. Inside a ship built many miles from here.

The ship reason wasn't much bigger than an Unterseeboot. It was a scout ship according to Hanala as she looked longingly around her all but ruined ship. It wasn't particularly impressive, nor was the design particularly alien with the exception to the technology that seemed to be everywhere in the ship, all inactive but all memorizing the human who had never seen such things in his life before.

"We can start adapting to the local environment soon enough," Hanala spoke, pressing her hand on the pilot's shoulder briefly. "For now we'll stick to foodpaste." She glanced up to the human standing next to her and added. "For now, I require some assistance, Obersturmbannführer Hoch."

Somewhat amused at how alien the term sounded on her tongue, Joachim nodded and together they departed the hungry young pilot's company.

"Hoch is fine, you know, Joachim even. It's not as though you answer to me." He reminded her as he followed her lead. Together they turned the corner and stopped in front of a door that they had pried open earlier.

Together they stepped into the room that was once her quarters. Small, Perhaps even Spartan even by his standards. What little she had was scattered from the crash and the movement made by the engineers transferring it from Russia to here in Vienna.

"Regardless whether or not I answer to you, has your new promotion at least sated that arrogant streak of yours?" she inquired as Hoch re-entered the room, with several empty crates for her possessions.

Joachim cringed slightly as the woman lightly laughed at his expense.

"Somewhat," he shrugged, offering her a small grin as he passed her along another box "When I am a General, ask that question again. I'll have a more definitive answer."

They glanced at each other.

"I suppose you'll be quite happy that you have your own room now..." Hoch spoke, breaking his focus on the woman. "Forgive me for stating the obvious, but your navigator is an insufferable idiot. Had he been with me in Russia, I would have had him take point in a minefield."

Hanala ducked her head as though she wanted to agree with him but everything told her not to agree so opening with his sentiment over Martus'Xen.

"He's... brash…" she finally admitted as gathered a few of her trinkets, including what appeared to be a photo frame. "He's right about some of his concerns. No how bluntly he may express his... opinion."

She paused and glanced up. Hoch could only imagine a mild grin was being shown off from behind that tinted mask.

"And yes..." she added her voice suddenly coy. "I'm definitely happy to have some private space once more."

Speaking of the devil himself, the navigator Martus'Xen entered the room without as much as a warning, startling the younger captain. His focus was not on her sudden embarrassment but on Hoch.

"Hoch. One human in the Devoas is enough," The navigator snapped viciously.

Joachim simply stared at him. What in the hell was he talking about?

"There's another human sniffing around what's left of the engine room," he elaborated noticing the genuine confusion. "He does not care that non-humans are talking to him, he only cares about the engines."

Hanala and Hoch shared a brief look. Setting down the boxes, Hanala gestured for the Obersturmbannführer to follow her. Together they shoved past the suddenly indignant older quarian as they marched (In Hoch's case limped) out of the cramped quarters and into the almost as cramped hallway leading to the end of the ship.

As they moved down a small set of stairs and through a damaged blast door they found who Martus had found. It was a civilian, or so he assumed. The man wore a tailored suit, his hair slicked back. He looked as though he was a spy, a member of the Wehrmacht intelligence services -the Abwehr, or worse yet, the Gestapo.

"May I help you?" Hoch decided to call out, summoning all the courage he had.

The well-dressed man turned around to face the newly appointed Obersturmbannführer. There were no real features that made him stand out. His expression was blank as he fished for a cigarette only served to enhance the appearance of anonymity. Lighting the cigarette and taking a drag, he briefly glanced at Hanala before turning back to Hoch.

"I would like to know about the method of propulsion this engine is run by," he requested his voice neutral as he held his eyes on Joachim. Smoke exhaled from his mouth like a dragon from the fables.

Hanala's hand touched his forearm. Hoch turned to face her. She seemed almost tense at the question that she heard. Quietly the two of them turned away from the tall man with an intense interest written all over him suddenly.

"He's stumble across one of those questions I cannot answer yet," she informed him, worried to offend. "Besides, even if I was allowed to disclose it, I'm not an engineer, nor are Xen or Galas."

Instead annoyance her lack of cooperation, Hoch nodded, understanding where she was coming from. The quarian's could not simply hand them over the keys of their knowledge just yet. Not when her people were not in a position to exert power of this species. He turned and smiled respectfully to the still unemotional man that stood there frozen.

"They can't answer that just yet… Herr?"

"Doctor," the man corrected, unperturbed by Hoch's title slip up. "Doctor Wernher von Braun."

Doctor von Braun stared at each of them; his eyes were hard as they fell on the quarians, eyes almost like steel, deciding whether or not he would get any more from the non-humans. Sighing slightly, he dropped the cigarette and stamped on it, his hand straightening out his dark necktie.

"When they're ready to talk about this marvel, I will be waiting."

Nodding respectfully to the group; Doctor von Braun pushed past the quarians and the SS officer and departed from the ruined ship and out into the makeshift lab, leaving both quarian and human somewhat confused at the presence of the scientist.

Hoch turned back to Hanala, who seemed to have gone into an overdrive of thoughts.

"Come on," he said to her. "Let's go and gather the rest of your things."

Hanala nodded blankly, following her attaché out of the engine room. For the first time since they met they both understood the impact of all his would have on the near future.

...

* * *

...

It was nearly the next day. Why could she not simply sleep?

She wasted several hours tinkering with some of her damaged personal effects, notably her holoprojector. On it containing a whole library of family photos, now lost due to a hard drive crack. Even if it wasn't going to get fixed, at least it kept her mind off the encounter only hours ago.

The human -Wernher von Braun frightened her more than she cared to admit. They had been on this planet for no more than ten days and already this species was poking around, wanting to learn secrets they weren't ready to learn just yet. She would have to do something about that. Which was the reason why she was now standing outside the offices of Joachim'Hoch, she knocked and earned a muffled " _enter_ " which she obliged.

She stood in the doorway and simply held her eyes on him. His boots were off, his jacket folded neatly and tucked safely away on a dresser. He stood there with his back turned to her. His pants still on and an undershirt with suspenders riding over top the white shirt.

"Joachim'Hoch?"

Tugging off the suspenders, Joachim'Hoch turned back to notice the quarian standing in his door way. He huffed slightly and gesture to her to enter the room, something the woman obliged.

"Is there something I can help you with, Captain?" he inquired as he closed the door the captain.

"Hanala." she corrected. "I'm not on duty tonight."

Smiling at her usage of his own words, he moved past her and pushed out a seat for her to take at the small round wooden table across from a second seat. Again Hanala obliged and sat down, even allowing the man to seat her. She watched as he stepped past her and pulled open a cabinet, retrieving a glass and a bottle filled with amber liquid.

"I would offer you a drink and a cigarette," Hoch spoke ruefully. "But... You know."

Gesturing to her helmet, He smiled helplessly as he poured himself a generous drink before retightening the lid on the bottle. He sat down across from her, sipping his drink once before setting it down and leaning into his seat, his eyes focused on hers.

"Everything alright, Captai... Hanala?"

Smiling slightly at his slip up, she shrugged.

"I'm still not quite use to the time difference," she admitted. Hanala paused and noticed that his attire indicted he was going to go to sleep himself. Quickly she added. "I'll let you sleep if that is what you choose. This can wait for the morning."

Hoch shook his head as he sipped his drink again, not uttering a single word. Deciding that the answer was good enough, she cleared her throat.

"Tomorrow, if you can, could you inform the scientists that I will field any queries they have?" She spoke up doing her best to maintain her professional voice. "I can't provide much, but if it will help keep the likes of Doctor von Braun from poking around in my home, then I will gladly do it."

Hoch sipped his drink, his expression suddenly became confused.

"Your home?" Hoch repeated.

Behind her mask Hanala nearly blanched at the slip up. She could still salvage this, but she came closer than she wanted to admit to Joachim'Hoch that Rannoch was not in quarian's hands and that for the past fifty years her people had been drifting the stars listlessly.

"It's a ship bought by my family, my parents, and my grandparents," she explained to the human quickly. "It's not much, I know, but I would rather keep it sacred. A family custom I suppose."

Hoch raised his hand.

"Don't worry, Hanala. I am commandant of the facility... and I do technically answer to you," Hoch broke through her ranting's. "So, if that is what you wish, then it will be done in that manner. If the scientist complains, I'll have them shot."

Hanala blinked. Joachim rubbed the back of his neck.

"That was a joke," he spoke awkwardly.

"I almost forgot that you can do that..." Hanala drifted off, a hidden smirk for the Sturmbannführer. "And yes. You do answer to me, don't you..."

They both chuckled slightly. Hanala less so, still in her hand was the broken holoprojector. The weight reminding her of everything she left back on the fleet for her military, Friends and family whom she could barely picture anymore. Even when she had the projector working she did not look at it.

Funny how the things you take for granted are the things you miss the most once you lost them...

"Do you have a mother, Hoch?" Hanala inquired curiously, unable to hold back any sense of restraint. "I mean... does she live?"

Hoch frowned.

Joachim'Hoch actually frowned at the mention of his mother.

Keelah...

"Yes," he admitted somewhat wearily. "She resides in Kiel, and you?"

Hanala grimly smiled as her hands clutched the small damaged projector hidden in the palm of her hands.

"Galina and Alaan. My Mother and Father," she nearly whispered in turn. "They're from Vara'is... just a small town. Rannoch isn't split up into nation states anymore. It hasn't been since the beginning of galactic expansion."

Hoch lips curved into a grin.

"Rannoch...Must be a peaceful planet then," he spoke with such wonder in his voice. "Must lack the insanity we have..."

The words stung, even if he did not realize it. Less than one percent of quarankind survived the systematic extermination the geth waged on her people. Rannoch was in all likelihood a wasteland, made inhabitable by the geth so that the quarian would be denied the place of their origins. Monsters, the whole lot of them...

"I haven't seen my parents in a year," she admitted, fighting back the hurt in her voice. "I suppose I'm... homesick. I mean... I'd show you a picture of them but the projector was broken in the crash..."

Her hand pressed the small metallic device on the table in front of the human. Hanala leaned back, her eyes turning up to the sealing as she linked the tears from out of her eyes.

"I spent the last few hours trying to fix it... I just can't..."

A hand reached out, squeezing her in a surprising grin. It was Hoch, his eye holding that rare look of empathy he had on occasion.

"It's alright to feel that way, Hanala," he reassured her. "Pangs for your family don't make you weak."

Hanala nodded. She would see her mother and father soon enough. She was just being stupid. Faintly, she could feel the grip lessen and pull away, leaving her hand alone once more as Joachim'Hoch leaned into his seat.

"My mother and I haven't spoken since I enlisted," he spoke, his voice as solid as it had been when they first met. "She wanted me to be a doctor, a lawyer, a carpenter; something that did not involve me picking up a gun and using it on another man."

He fell silent as he down the last of his drink.

"Perhaps you should speak to her," Hanala gently suggested, not wanting to intrude, but forgetting that feeling the best she could. "Family is important. I don't think quarians and humans feel vastly different about that."

Hoch did not speak. He chuckled and stood up, turning away from her as he gathered his bottle and glass and went to put them away.

Suddenly, a crazy, brash idea came to the quarian. Hoch had been nothing short of a perfect host. He listened to her troubles, he fielded her questions and kept all his promises he made.

Hanala's hands reached up and grazed against her mask seals.

The least she could do was thank him face to face. Not hidden behind an inch of plateglass.

She was going to have to do this sooner or later. There was a good chance earth could become a new home for her and her people. She might as well get a head start, and if anyone deserved first proper contact with a quarian, it was him.

"Hoch?" she whispered uncertainly, her hands still pressed to the mask seal. She was going to do this, she was going to pull off her helmet and thank the man with her own voice and not with the hissing of an electronic voice piece.

Hoch turned around. Hanala's hands fell to the side.

She would not do it. Not yet.

"Yes?" he asked, oblivious to the debate that just occurred.

Hanala bowed her head slightly.

"Thank you for your time... and your hospitality," she spoke, standing from her seat. "I think I'll try to sleep, now. I will see you in the morning."

Joachim'Hoch inclined his head as she did. Before he could bid her goodnight she left the room, leaving the human wondering if everything was okay with her.

...

* * *

...

"Major Cross, do you have a minute?"

Major James Cross glanced up from the latest intelligence reports filed by the French Resistance members in Brest. He leaned into his seat and sipped his coffee as Lieutenant-Commander Alexander Ferguson approached him, a file in his hands and a troublesome look written on his face.

The man approaching his sixties and recalled back into the intelligence services after the Dunkirk evacuation sighed tiredly, he getting much too old for all of this.

Cross offered the seat in front of him to his much younger compatriot in the MI6. Ferguson, however, didn't take it. He stayed standing as he opened the file dropped a long form sheet of paper in front of him. Frowning, the Major took it and glanced over the paper carefully. Confused, he reached into his pocket and pulled his spectacles out and again read it.

Was this some sort of joke?

"The 2nd SS Panzer Division has just entered France." He spoke aloud, looking over his glasses to the standing Commander, he added. "It's a troop movement report. I don't have bloody time for troop movements, son."

Unperturbed by the lack of interest, Ferguson dropped yet another piece of paper in front of him: A transcription.

"This came in over Polish resistance radio."

 _Polish Resistance?_

Now Cross was curious, curious enough to glance over the findings. It was another report on Das Reich. A smaller unit was stationed in Poland, Krakow to be specific. Somewhat curious still, he checked the dates of the report. The main body of the Division was in France. These fellows were in Poland on the exact same day.

Jerry didn't do that. Everything was neat and tidy when it came to division transfers, as smooth as one can be in war anyway.

"So two companies of SS were taking a break after a bloody long march," the Major tried to rationalize. "Can you blame the poor bastards?"

Yet again Alex dropped another piece of paper in front of him.

"They stayed for a week and started heading west, with a new members to their convoy," the Lieutenant-Commander spoke while he read the report himself. "Two staff cars accompanying them. Tinted windows and surrounded by armoured cars and panzers and about three hundred men in trucks and halftracks."

James rubbed his mouth. This was getting interesting.

"Before they left, the resistance spotted this."

Alexander dropped a photo in front of him. Picking it up and looking at it, all the color drained from his cheeks. It was huge, so huge it had to be hauled by train. Whatever it was it was covered with many sheets.

"What the hell..." He drifted off wide eyed.

"It was sent to us nine days ago, just came in," Ferguson elaborated fro the dumbstruck agent. "Whatever it is took three rail carts to place it on. The train was coming east. Markings indicate it was commandeered from the Soviets."

Ferguson paused, closing his eyes briefly.

"One last thing, Major," He added. "This report came in from O5 - the Austrian resistance movement - Naturhistorisches Museum in Vienna was taken over by a contingent of SS several weeks ago. At first we thought it was nothing."

Again the Lieutenant-Commander set a picture down in front of him.

"And then came the tanks…"

On the picture was a fleet of heavy tanks converted into tugs, dragging the covered oddity up in the direction of the museum.

"Then the scientists."

Another picture fell. On it was civilians gathered around at the front of the museum.

"Finally a staff car," the Lieutenant-Commander finished, dropping a final picture down. "SS once again, exact same markings as the one in Poland."

Silence fell between both men. The presentation was over. Ferguson sighed and finally slumped into the seat offered to him earlier. He looked as though he had needed a drink.

"Perhaps Jerry found something Soviet and took it somewhere safe to look at it being a hundred miles from Leningrad isn't safe place for tests." Ferguson mused, leaning into his chair.

Cross laughed humourlessly at the suggestion.

"The only thing stopping Jerry in Russia is a snowstorm and a totalitarian government throwing more men at them then they have bullets. Not some secret weapon. The only thing the Russians have to offer the Germans is land, resources and endless war."

Ferguson shrugged slightly, racking his mind for alternative theories.

"Maybe the Yanks forgot to read their maps again."

Cross finally broke a grin at the observation.

"Sounds like something they would do," he agreed

He sipped his coffee, his mind swimming with all this new information presented by his fellow agent. What in the hell did Jerry find and what in the hell did the SS want to keep so secret from them?

This war wasn't simple like the last one. Sure, the last war started convoluted, but at its core it was them looking to make the world respect their new empire through war, Back then Jerry was a simple minded enemy. This time around they were much more the beasts the propaganda of old made them out to be. They were far more unpredictable and searching for new, terrible ways to destroy their enemies.

"Anyways, good find, keep an eye on this and keep me informed if anything else comes up," Cross concluded, stretching out his tired old bombs.

Lieutenant-Commander Ferguson nodded and stood up, leaving the older man to debate whether or not he should retire.

...

* * *

...

 **Minor changes: Made Hoch less of a white knight about the SS second's condescending, erased the dismissal of Sky Aryan by Hoch.**


	5. An Unwelcomed Inspection

**Chapter Five: An Unwelcome Inspection**

 **…**

"Herr Obersturmbannführer, You're needed at the front gates. There's a situation!"

Before Hoch could ask what in the hell was wrong, the line went dead, leaving Joachim holding the receiver with his thoughts. It took him a half a minute to get his jacket on and his Walther from out of his holster. There had been no shot fired that he heard, but better safe than sorry.

He had read over the report giving to him by the local Gestapo cell. There was a small resistance movement in Vienna that they had infiltrated O5, a leftist movement that started a few years prior to the Anschluss between Austria and the Fatherland. Two German nations that should have never been a part in the first place, for Großdeutschland was the only answer to challenge the Anglo hegemony.

He turned the corner and found two guards lingering just in front of the interests, speaking casually as they smoked. The taller of the two noticed him and immediately snapped to attention.

"You two, follow."

The two complied, dropping their cigarettes as they unslung their Karabiner rifles and followed their commandant outside and into the snow covered steps and across the lawns. They weren't the only ones approaching the position. A dozen more of his personal were following, or in front of them heading there. The three of them were the only one ready to fight however. The others seemed to be interested in something.

The only one who was storming away from the front gates was Hauptsturmführer Waechter.

"Report Captain," Hoch briskly ordered, returning the snapping salute.

Waechter gestured to the front gate, he looked pale.

"Obersturmbannführer, it is Generalfeldmarschall Gerd von Rundstedt…" he spoke with a nervous stutter. "He seems to think the museum is open to him and his grandchildren."

The troops parted and there indeed stood Generalfeldmarschall Gerd von Rundstedt. Stern faced with the expression of a bird of prey circling his victim and glaring past the troops into his eyes, the Generalfeldmarschall immediately knew who was in charge of this SS operation.

Hoch looked him over. Rundstedt held the hands of two young boys and what looked like a small girl standing just behind him. The SS-Obersturmbannführer exhaled slowly and pushed past the Captain and his men, snapping his boots together and saluted high.

"Heil Hitler, Herr Generalfeldmarschall," Hoch finally managed to find his voice and addressed the man staring him down. "You will have to forgive my Hauptsturmführer. He's been given a direct order not to allow any visitors."

Rundstedt turned away, his eyes falling to the youngest boy standing at his side. Hoch could swear the stern man allowed the child a smile, before turning his attention to SS officer once more.

"I have been relieved of command for the time being," the Generalfeldmarschall explained, his hand falling on top of littlest boy's head. "The Führer will undoubtedly call me back soon enough. In the meantime, I am spending time with my grandchildren."

He gestured to the children surrounding their war hero grandfather. It was endearing, and he was almost willing to admit them had he almost forgotten his duty to uphold the secrecy of what was hidden inside the museum's walls.

"I see... well, you must forgive me Herr Generalfeldmarschall," The Obersturmbannführer apologized to the old soldier. "The museum has been made off limits as decreed by Reichsführer Himmler."

The mere mention of the Führer's third in command brought a sudden scowl to the Prussian's face. He pushed it away and merely allowed a mild smile so that the children around him were not disturbed by the old man's rage.

"Very well, but might I remind you, it's only a matter of time before the Führer calls me back into his service," Rundstedt spoke in his steady commanding voice. "By the reaction you have to my presence, I should think Himmler is up to something that our Führer has not been _aware_ of..."

The expression on the Generalfeldmarschall's face was not that of man bluffing. Glancing briefly to the gate guard, he gestured to him to open.

"If you do not mind me playing tour guide, of course I will admit you," Hoch said slipping his pistol back into his holster as the gate rose.

Staring at the Obersturmbannfuhrer like he was an insecy, the Generalfeldmarschall inclined his head and stepped forward, the children following him. Hoch turned and waved Waetcher to direct the guards back to their posts.

"By all means then, tour-guide us. I imagine that sort of menial job were all your lot could get before the Führer's rise, right up there with ditch diggers, mop boys and ex-convicts," the aristocratic Prussian Junker grumbled. "Well then, what delays you? Lead on."

Ignoring the barb, the Obersturmbannführer nodded. However, before Hoch could commence his guided escort of the Von Rundstedt family, he felt a small hand tug on his dress pants. He glanced down and found the only girl of the children staring up at him, her smile shy as she clearly wanted his attention.

"May I wear your hat?" the voice matched her shy smile.

Hoch glanced up to the Generalfeldmarschall. He did not look enthused that the small girl was so open to wearing a Schutzestaffel hat. Regardless of his own personal opinion of the kind of people those in the SS were, the Grandfather nodded his head curtly to Hoch, issuing his order.

"Well go on, you heard my little Barbara, give her your hat" Von Rundstedt simply commanded.

Stifling a smirk, Joachim pulled off his hat and placed it over the small child's head. It was much too wide for her, so Hoch tilted the cap slightly so she could at least see in front of her.

"That's not really respectful to a soldier," Hoch grumbled to himself as the girl marched away, now in the enviable awe of her younger brothers. "Forcing him to give up his own uniform to a child just to please her… in fact it borders on rude."

The Generalfeldmarschall did not even blink at the remark.

"Good thing that you're not a real soldier, then," Rundstedt haughtily reminded him.

Leaving the SS-Obersturmbannführer speechless, Generalfeldmarschall Von Rundstedt pushed passed the suddenly embarrassed younger man. And re-joined his grandchildren with a much brighter then tone then he had for Hoch.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

As it turned out, Hoch was a lousy tour guide, a fact that Von Rundstedt was not afraid to point out on more than one occasion as they wandered the halls of the vast museum. Hoch did his best to ignore the ditch digger remark he made to his granddaughter who giggled furiously at his expense.

The old Prussian's mood shifted slightly lighter the moment he saw Fuhrmann join his superior officer. In the eyes of Von Rundstedt, a non-commissioned officer in the Heer was worth infinitely more of his respect than a high ranking SS man, which was a common feeling that served to annoy Hoch to no end. Von Rundstedt requested that Fuhrmann took the children ahead of the two older men to serve as a nanny of sorts to them. Hoch obliged him and with the children under Fuhrmann's watchful eye, the two men were alone. Von Rundstedt several paces in in front of Hoch, his hands behind his back as his heels clicked on the marble floor.

Hoch cleared his throat. He needed to break the ice. It was not often when had found company in a Generalfeldmarschall. He had many questions.

"If I may speak freely, Herr Generalfeldmarschall, I think you did the right thing in December," Hoch stated finally, biting back the knot of nervousness in his voice. "You saved many lives by ordering a withdrawal."

The Generalfeldmarschall turned away from the Unteroffizier and his grandchildren and eyed the SS man suspiciously. Finding no malicious sentiment, he nodded curtly.

"Yes it did... Or at least it could have," Rundstedt agreed as they continued following the children at a slower pace. "Your sentiment isn't exactly new, though unexpected considering your affiliation. In the end, Moscow wasn't taken and I was to pay for not meeting the objectives. The Führer is furious with me. The fact that I would dare try to save as many lives as I could by calling for a withdrawal is unthinkable... cowardice in his eyes."

Rundstedt shook his head. Annoyed at the concept he was being accused of.

"My replacement, Reichenau is dead and now Von Kluge is on his way to set up a stabilized line. He's no Walter Model, but he'll do for the time being," he continued. "Besides, Model has his work cut out. The Soviets think they can break him in the Rzhev Salient. Let them try. I haven't seen a defensive position so entrenched and well thought out in my wildest imaginations. Not even during the last war."

 _Model_.

Hoch glared at the mention of that bastard. He was not unlike Rommel, only lacking any of the charm the man holding the Africa campaign together had. His behaviour was not unlike a Feldwebel after suffering a five hour artillery barrage. He would antagonize any man, below and above his rank if they failed at his job. Rumour had it he even went so far as to insult the Führer himself.

His behaviour was not the point of dislike for Hoch. Model had virtually destroyed the 2nd SS Panzer Division, using him and the men of the panzer division as cannon fodder so that he and the men of the 9th Army were spared from Russian attacks while they dug in. Ignoring his anger, he turned back to the Generalfeldmarschall .

"Life must seem dull without the war being decided by you," Hoch spoke idly, hoping to skip any further conversation about Model.

Glancing back to Hoch, Von Rundstedt nodded slightly.

"Yes. It is somewhat nice to be on friendly soil and away from the death that comes with each of my decisions," he admitted, smirking mildly as he watched the eldest, Barbara hit Fuhrmann. "So for now I will relax and see if the Führer has a change of heart and finds something for me to do."

Silence fell between them as the girl, Barbara came back. She pouted as she pressed her hands against the hem of von Rundstedt's dress jacket.

"Opa," she whined "I'm kind of hungry."

Rundstedt frowned slightly. He reached down and pulled Hoch's hat from off the child's head and handed it back to the grateful SS officer. He stood back up fully and nodded to Hoch. Hoch snapped his finger, catching Fuhrmann's attention as he was picking up the youngest, Eberhard.

"Unteroffizier, see to feeding the children," Hoch ordered, his voice formal for the sake of maintaining his image of authority.

Fuhrmann looked away from the child in his arms and nodded gravely.

"Ah, yes Herr Obersturmbannführer..." he paused, glanced to the Generalfeldmarschall and added. "I mean Herr Generalfeldmarschall." just in case.

Sending his Granddaughter off with Fuhrmann, both the SS-Obersturmbannfuhrer and the Heer Generalfeldmarschall watched as the newly designated child rearer and his new assignments turned the corner and headed to the kitchen families of the museum cafe.

Hoch followed the Generalfeldmarschall as he stepped lightly through the long hall of the main wing of the museum. His attention focused on a painting of the Franco-Prussian war. It was that of Otto von Bismarck speaking to Emperor Napoleon III after his capture after the Battle of Sedan.

"Where we stand now, can we win this war, Herr Generalfeldmarschall?" Hoch spoke up finally, his vice much more curious than he had intended it to be.

Generalfeldmarschall Von Rundstedt turned his eyes to the under man, he appeared almost amused by the less than enthusiastic tone taking by Hoch.

"Where is your feared fanaticism, so vaunted by your lot?" he taunted, his small eyes narrowed at the Obersturmbannführer. Hoch shrugged, his hands hand folding together behind his back

"I lost it after my forth assault on Moscow." He stated to the staring Generalfeldmarschall. "Back when I was still a Hauptsturmführer, two hundred men dead in three days."

Rundstedt actually winced.

"I sympathize," he returned and sounding like he meant it, regardless of his misgiving to the SS. "If we continue allowing our political elite take charge of the war... no, you can expect more pointless death without a final victory."

The defeatism hung in the air, instantly eroding the hope for a victory. Gerd von Rundstedt was notorious for being a realist even in the circles of the Wafffen-SS. If this was how he felt about their situation then something fast had to be done, and done soon.

"What we need create a stalemate in Russia while we rebuild the Luftwaffe and turn our attention to starving the British and smashing them in the desert," the Generalfeldmarschall pressed on, "It makes me sick in my stomach to think of all those planes we threw at Britain so fruitlessly... that damnable fat bastard."

Rundstedt checked his anger before he could begin to rank in from the Obersturmbannführer. Taking off his cap and rubbing his thinned hair, he continued.

"But even if the Luftwaffe could return to full strength and we did manage to break the English military spine in North Africa, Starting a war against America is going to cause us troubles in the near future," Rundstedt pressed his point with a miserable sounding tone. "Prospects are grim to say the least, but still we fight."

Joachim winced. America... he had completely forgotten about them.

"They aren't mobilized yet, and will be unable to stomach a war such as this one if we can force a decisive blow against them in their first ground actions," Von Rundstedt elaborated, slightly more optimistic than before."If we were to kill and capture enough men within the first weeks of their combatinvolvement we could potentially frighten them off..."

The Generalfeldmarschall sighed.

"But if we can't scare them, they're in the war for the long run. It is no illusion that they will wi-"

"Hoch, there you are," a wobbly voice spoke from behind him, causing the SS man to freeze. "I was hoping for some of your time, it's important..."

Hanala... Oh for Christ's sake.

The woman in the environmental suit stared between the frustrated Hoch and the suddenly shocked Von Rundstedt. It was evident she had no idea what her presence in front of the Generalfeldmarschall who, had no idea what the SS had found.

"Generalfeldmarschall von Rundstedt..." Hoch reluctantly introduced. "She is one of the secrets we're hiding, Captain Hanala'Jarva."

Hanala inclined her head. Gathering his senses, which were still clearly frayed, the Generalfeldmarschall turned his wide eyes from the quarian and back to Hoch, who did his utmost to remain as disciplined as he could be.

"I trust you will explain what... this thing, is…" Von Rundstedt snapped briskly, gesturing to the woman.

Ignoring Hanala's indignation, Hoch nodded.

This wasn't going to be pleasant.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

It was another hour before Von Rundstedt had gathered his grandchildren and all but marched them back to his waiting staff car, paying no mind to the SS officer and his Heer adjutant.

Hoch had explained everything he could about the situation he was now in. Hanala tried to help as well, but it wasn't translatable for the Generalfeldmarschall . He instead dismissed the quarian, promising they would speak once he had dealt with the shocked old soldier. At long last, as soon as little Barbara, Gerd and Eberhard were in the staff car with the door closed, Generalfeldmarschall Von Rundstedt turned and faced the SS officer, the full weight of his rank personified in his expression. He was not impressed to say the least.

"What does the SS intend with these potentially world ending aliens?" he asked tightened his cap and stared hard in to Hoch's eyes.

"To ultimately build an alliance," Hoch spoke, deciding ntruth was the only course to take.

The Generalfeldmarschall rubbed his chin.

"A noble undertaking I confess," the older man admitted. His eyes narrowed his mouth almost sneered as he added. "An undertaking which is best not left in the hands of brutes and fanatics such as Himmler."

Hoch closed his eyes. Of course the SS would never be good enough in the eyes of a Junker. Common volk trash like Hoch never was to aristocratic militarists.

"Despite my initial impression, you seem like a somewhat bright lad," Von Rundstedt admitted, his hands connecting to each other as he added. "You think this organization of yours has a future? Even if it did have a future, you won't belong to it for long... your friends are known for turning on each other. No honour among your ranks makes purges that more likely to happen."

Hoch could not help it; his temper blew after surviving endless insults at the hand of the Prussian Junker.

"The Heer of the old days killed my brothers and broke my father." Hoch growled without thinking. "You still let the butchers of the last war command in this one. It was your _vaunted_ Model who killed so many of my friends, many of the men I commanded since before Poland. Why would I ever find a home among your people? An archaic, disloyal organization-"

Before Hoch knew it, The Generalfeldmarschall hand flew out and backhanded the Obersturmbannführer hard across his moth in front of Fuhrmann, and in front of the watching guard.

"Get over yourself, you _disrespectful_ child," The Generalfeldmarschall snapped as Hoch gathered his senses back. "Are you so arrogant to think you're the only one who lost his brothers to that mess? Let me tell you something. Everyone lost their soul between 1914 and 1918."

The Prussian shook his head.

"The dead are enviable," he bitterly muttered. "They do not get to see what their sacrifice has been reduced to... another goddamn war."

Hoch bowed his head, both in shame and so his hand reached up to wipe his lip. On his hand was a faint trace of blood. In spite of his advanced age, the old soldier broke skin.

"I trust you'll keep your discretion," Hoch mumbled looking up to Generalfeldmarschall who turned away to button his jacket back up.

"I've kept more secrets then you can possibly imagine. It comes with having my age and background," Von Rundstedt muttered finally, opening the car door. "I will not bring this up to the Führer."

Glancing at the grandchildren waiting for their Opa to join them, Von Rundstedt slid into the seat next to them, pulling little Barbara onto his lap. Smiling at her, he looked up to the Obersturmbannführer.

"Thank you for your hospitality on behalf of my grandchildren," he concluded.

Gerd von Rundstedt closed the door behind him. Hoch watched in silence as the car pulled away, leaving Hoch hoping that the Prussian would indeed keep his word.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

"I am sorry, Hoch, had I known..."

Hoch shook his head as he closed the door to Hanala's quarters behind him. He could not believe that had actually happened. Someone with that amount of power and outside the SS inner circle now held onto a secret that was ready to be shared... Rundstedt, Hoch hoped, would keep his word.

"It was an unexpected and unwelcome inspection," the officer assured the pacing quarian as he took a seat. "You could not have foreseen it. What's troubling you?"

Hanala stopped pacing and turned to face the curious Hoch. She exhaled slowly and took a seat in front of him

"Rebuilding the FTL, Faster-Then-Light, communication device has hit a delay." She explained.

Hanala copied him and held her hand up, before he could get a word in. She added. "Now I can fix the commlink and I can even fix the generator functions in the engine. The thing is, our equipment will require an alternate fuel source then electricity and fossil fuel or even solar."

Solar energy? Collecting light from the sun any using that? How odd. Shaking head, he tried not to laugh at the concept.

"We require material known as Element Zero... Eezo for short." The Captain explained. "Element Zero is a multipurpose element -almost a wonder element. I will spare you the details, but eezo is what powered this ship which in turn powers the FTL communicator."

Feeling as though he was already over his head, even with her dumbing it down for him, he shook his head and pushed the doubt away from him.

"Don't you have any more here?" he asked, "In storage?"

Hanala shook her head.

"It's highly volatile. It burned up in the crash..." she spoke with a emptied tone. "That's the reason half the crew died… Element Zero burn off ended up poisoning them."

Hoch winced as he saw the quarian captain bow her head in mourning for those she sought to protect. Finally after a long moment, Hanala looked back up. She stood up and pushed herself into the seat next to Hoch, who shuffled over to allow the woman some room.

"Each quarian ship is provided with an eezo enricher." She pressed on as though she hadn't been bothered. "If we run out of fuel, we can scan a planet or asteroid, mine the material and enrich it to a fuel source we've been scanning and probing your planet. The closest eezo deposit is here."

Hanala's arm pushed out. Suddenly her arm glowed in a sudden, furious looking blood, like an arm piece. Suddenly came up a planet... Earth. Sprinkled across the planet were red flashing lights. Hanala tapped the continent of Africa. Zooming the planet into a vast map. Her hand pressed the red light, zooming in the map even closer, focusing on North Africa.

"A probe discovered a small eezo deposit here," she informed him. "Not a lot, but it is enough for processing."

She hit the zoom, leaving Hoch wide eyed at the land mass that was now being focused on.

"Libya, more than a hundred fifty kilometers outside of Tripoli..." he trailed. He turned up to her and added. "That's in enemy hands, Hanala."

Hanala closed the device, her arm going back to normal once more.

"Unless you want to go as three thousand kilometers past the River Volga or southern North America, then those would be alternative sources," was her terse response. "Eezo is extremely rare. And right now, our lack of it is the only thing keeping our fleet from assuming we've been spotted and have been killed..."

They stared at each other for a good long moment. Hoch had to admit it was the only feasible plan... if one could say it was feasible. Tripoli was surrounded by the English, the Australians and the New Zealanders. All of the itching to kill anything that wore an Afrika Korps or Royal Italian Army uniform, and she simply expected them to break through the encirclement and go mining?

Hoch closed his eyes. Inwardly he groaned. He could not believe he was going to ask this.

"How trained are your subordinates in combat?" he finally spoke up, regretting his words already.

Much to Hoch's shock, Hanala bounced on the tips of her toes suddenly, in an odd celebratory action. Noticing his surprise and strange look, she stopped moving and cleared her throat awkwardly, her hands wringing together oddly.

"Galas was a marine first before he became a pilot," Hanala spoke to the inquiring human, keeping her excitement much more in check. "Martus'Xen went through basic combat training and can keep us on course."

Hoch leaned into his seat, his hands discovering his cigarette box.

"If this is what we need, I can organize with Langer," he spoke as he turned his attention away from the quarian and onto the plans formulating in his mind. "The SS aren't welcomed into Rommel's theater, so we'll need to blend in as Afrika Korps men. We'll have to arm you three with our weapons. Those rifles of yours are dead giveaways..."

A sudden strange hiss forced his attention up to the quarian standing over him. Her hood was pushed back as the helmet was pulled from off her head. Dropping it idly to the ground, she looked down and smiled for him, baring somewhat sharp looking teeth.

"For the sake of secrecy... it might be best if we're... exposed," she breathed, her voice unaltered by her helmet as her hand reached up and pulled an inner layer of protective cloth off her head. "Our suits are kind of a giveaway."

Hoch nodded blankly.

She looked... human. Well at least her face did.

Long dark hair pushed down her shoulder blades. Her face was as smooth and as feminine as any other woman he had encountered. Her lips were thin, nearly nonexistent as they curved into that lasting smile, the only facial features that gave away her being an alien, was her chalk white nearly grey skin and those eyes that burned into his.

Hoch exhaled a mouthful of smoke shakily.

"We'll… We will find you some glasses for those eyes and cover you up in a uniform," he finally managed to cough out. "Blend you and the others in. Put gloves on your hands... too few fingers after all."

Still smiling at the lost looking SS man, Hanala nodded, ducking her head and attempting not to laugh.

"I should go... for now," he added, standing up and placing the cigarette back in the holder. "Make the preparations. Langer needs to know."

Not noticing the woman's eyes following him until he left, Hoch closed his eyes. This was so wrong...

Shaking his head and marched away, forcing the thoughts of Hanala's revelation out of his head and instead, focused on the new mission now in the works. Africa... this could be interesting.

"Fuhrmann, contact Langer at his offices," Hoch spoke as he reached Fuhrmann's post. "Tell him it's urgent... Try his home if he's not there."

"Yes, Herr Obersturmbannführer."

Before Joachim left, he paused and slowly smirked.

"How does a trip to Tripoli sound, Unteroffizier?" the Obersturmbannführer asked with a laugh, heading back to Hanala's quarters, leaving the Unteroffizier white as a ghost.

"Oh..shit…" was all the Unteroffizier had to say on the subject.

…

* * *

…

 **Changes:**

 **Made Hoch a little less disrespectful to Rundstedt.**


	6. First Actions

**Chapter Six: First Actions.**

...

Well, well, well... don't we look handsome in your new combat gear, Obersturmbannführer... I mean Leutnant."

Joachim Hoch, now under the guise of Leutnant Josef Schmidt, formerly of the 28th Jäger Division glared at the smirking Langer, who was clearly enjoying this imaginary demotion, despite his initial protests to allowing the quarians out of their cage in Austria.

Fighting with the straps of his combat harness, Hoch sighed and took a seat, idly tugging off his desert camouflaged Stahlhelm, with sand goggles attached to them. At least they would be properly geared for the task at hand. They would be spending potentially a week in that African hellhole.

The humans were gathered in a warehouse packed full of munitions to be sent to reinforce Generaloberst Erwin Rommel. Rommel had smashed the British across the desert until he hit Egypt. With limited tanks and support, Rommel had ignored the Führer's directive of not one step back. He pulled his forces back and forced the British and her dominion allies into many terrible traps, including minefields, artillery and hundreds of hidden .88 flak guns. The fearsome weapon that had earned the name 'anti-everything' gun by many captured Commonwealth troops.

Hoch glanced over to Fuhrmann, who was inspecting the several oversized Panzer's, In his hands was his translator device, provided to him by Galas'Yoad, for the sake of clear communication. They would need it. Sneaking through a hive of tea drinkers and their cannon fodder would not be an easy feat.

One by one the quarians appeared, dressed immaculately in the Afrika Korps uniforms. Galas and Martus seemed to be fine, if a little out of place without their sun goggles on, and somewhat mutinous at being forced out their environmental suits and into the uniforms of those they felt superior to which appeared more to be Xen's opinion then the marine pilot.

Hanala came out last; she was still battling her uniform, trying to make it look as tidy as possible. Far cleaner than she needed to be given where she was going to end up in. Her hands were not covered up yet, but the battle fatigue pants were bulky, almost covering those curve shaped legs of hers. The long dark hair was pulled back into a tight twist up like an oriental woman as she pulled her Stahlhelm over her head.

She glanced up, her eyes, unshielded by the goggles, glowed vividly as she noticed Hoch's eyes wondering over her. She turned and stepped lightly over to her, her hand idly touching the reichadler swastika insignia on the top of her almost fully concealed breast.

"Captain Hanala'Jarva, Obersturmbanführer Hoch, the rest of you."

Hanala lowered her eyes and broke her look, her skin somewhat darker than usual as Langer stepped up to the gathered group, his hand up as it ran through his thinning hair.

"You all hold the names and ranks of dead men," Langer informed the gathered mixed species team. "Because the quarians cannot speak any human dialect and they don't have enough translators to give to the whole Afrika Korps. Your job is to find and procure a truck and move at full speed. You will find an Abwehr agent waiting at the dock, linger around and he'll come to you. His name is Mueller, works in Rommel's artillery section. He'll relay an order to fire a barrage to create a diversion. With any luck, the operation will take no more than a week; you will be back with the fuel for your generators by then."

Before they could acknowledge the Standartenführer's plan, he turned to the two leaders of the group.

"Captain, Hoch. Please join me."

Joachim and Hanala shared a confused book, but they followed Langer as he left Xen and Galas examining their MP-40's as though they had been a novelty. They ended up in front of a table with a small wooden crate, filled with wood chips. The Colonel reached in and pulled a shiny exotic looking weapon from out of the box, passing each of them one.

"Command has seen fit to equip you with experimental weapons as both live field test and to help keep you alive," Langer spoke as he gestured to the odd weapons in their hands. "We have no official designation for the rifle. For now it's called the MKb-42. It's a selective fire high calibre weapon that fires rifle rounds."

"It's an assault rifle." The quarian marvelled, her eyes twisting the weapon in place. She glanced up, surprised as she added. "You've had our rifles for just over a week and you have copied them already?"

Langer shook his head.

"We're adaptable, yes, but not that quickly. It was on the design for some time," he explained as he stepped away from them. "The Führer has been commissioning weapon's manufacturers for a new rifle to replace our Kar 98k's. It's nowhere near as advanced as yours, but it will kill Tommy's much faster than a bolt action rifle."

The Standartenführer came back with a second crate he had opened. He spilled the contents. In it were preloaded curved clips. Hanala and him gathered as many as they could and loading them into their combat harnesses. Hoch loaded his rifle and gestured to the five massive tanks sitting idle in the warehouse.

"And these beautiful monsters?"

"The Panzerkampfwagen VI Auf H, or simply the Tiger," Langer pressed on walking towards the vehicle and slapping it as though it had been his son. "It's our answer to everything the Soviets are surprising us with armourwise. With any luck, thousands of these marvels are being built and prepped for the Eastern Front. For now, these prototypes head to Rommel... gifts to smooth the fact an SS agent and his associates are entering his theater of operation."

Langer got panzers as bribes to Rommel to allow them to work without interference? It might just work.

"What's this, sir?"

Hoch, Hanala and Langer looked up, there stood Fuhrmann, a goofy grin on his face as he hefted a rather large looking machine gun in the air. It looked no bigger in his hands then a Kar98k in the hands of the average soldier.

"The Maschinengewehr 42, the follow up to the Maschinengewehr 34..." Langer explained, amused by the enthusiasm. "You wouldn't like it."

Glancing to Hoch, who nodded, Fuhrmann turned back, a grin on his face as he took aim at the pile of sandbags used as target practice by other soldiers who had come before them.

He squeezed the trigger.

The end of the barrel erupted in to a violent sounding buzz. As though the weapon didn't fire one round but like a high pressure hose shooting water out the end. The lead that connected to the sandbags shredded them, splitting the bags opened and flinging the sand everywhere. Fuhrmann almost hooted a primitive war cry as he let go of the trigger looking between Hoch and Langer.

"Sir with your permission, we should really bring this along." He spoke excitedly to the two of them.

Hoch and Langer shared a minor grin before turning back to Unteroffizier.

"Who's carrying the tripod?" Joachim inquired. Before an answer could be given by the Unteroffizier, a hand fell on his shoulder. It was Langer.

"It doesn't need one. It's not nearly as finicky as the MG-34 in the desert sand," the Standartenführer surprised Hoch and Fuhrmann. "I suggest you bring along minimum two extra barrels. The MG-42 has been noted for melting barrels if overheated. It might be wise if each of you pitch in and do the same, just in case."

Nodding to his subordinate and friend, Langer departed his presence, joining Fuhrmann to discuss the machine gun and the young man's intentions with his daughter, leaving Hanala and her human handler standing together in silence.

"Well now, do I fit in?" she inquired offering a mild grin for him.

Hanala turned to face him as Hoch stepped forward to properly inspect her. Finally his hands reached out, grabbing the sides of her combat fatigues. He pulled them from out of the waist band of her pants and made them hang limply off her body, covering much more of her curves.

"You might want to keep that uniform untucked, and the belt loosened." he spoke as he worked the belt to flare out the pants to better shield her legs. "Women aren't front line soldiers in most armies, with an exception to the Bolsheviks. Mind you, I don't think one can classify Bolshevik women as actual women…"

He paused, glance her over unashamedly and added.

"Plus most of these men have been stuck in the desert for a year…" he pressed on, hiding the mild grin on his face as he stepped back and inspected her again. "One whiff of femininity and they'll mutiny, steal a transport ship or two and head back to Italy... Not that I could blame them."

Confused, Hanala still smirked slightly at the remark, her hand falling to her hip.

"Would you do the same?" she questioned him with note of curiosity riding high in her voice.

Joachim shrugged casually.

"Probably."

Before the quarian could blanch at the audacious honesty displayed, Hoch dragged her away to practice how to perform the Heer salute.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

The morning sunlight light made the ocean which Hoch called the Mediterranean, blue and green, sparkling. It was hard to believe there was a war occurring in these waters.

Langer had arranged the captain of this ship to provide the team with several officer rooms for the trip to Italian Libya. Not enough rooms however, one was given to Yoad, Xen and Fuhrmann, but when it came to Hoch and her they found themselves having to share. It was a practical joke, assumed Hoch who decided to take a few hours to nap. Six hundred kilometers in a slow moving heavily weighed down transport ship would take some time.

Besides, she was too on edge to remain confined to the room. Hanala instead wandered up to the dock. Passing what felt like hundreds of humans waiting to join the war waging in the other continent.

It seemed so... wasteful that humans would fight one another like this. Internal conflict occurred between quarians yes, but not a sort of conflict that engulfed the entire planet back when they had a planet.

"Easily deceived, aren't they?" a cold, humoured voice called from behind her.

She turned and saw Xen approaching her; he seemed almost to strut in his uniform as he approached, as though she was amused by his observations.

She wasn't.

"To actually believe that whole line about needing element zero to power the commlink…"" he pressed on, eying her impressively. "You're up to something, aren't you?"

Hanala closed her eyes. It was an unnecessary lie told, yet another one. They were secrets not ready to be revealed just yet to both Hoch and his people. Nor were they ready to understand why Hanala was asking Hoch to risk his life in this desert.

"I still like that one about how the fleet will rain fire on them should they believe you were killed," he pressed on as Hanala refused to look at him. "As if they would actually exterminate any other species besides the geth, it's a laughable suggestion."

Xen paused, that awful smirk of his spreading across his face.

"But I suppose that part might be true." He admitted, almost humoured by the thought. "A daughter of one of the admirals... begging her father to buy her a ship and for her command position. Only to get over twenty men and women killed and put us in a situation like this. On a tin boat to a war of all places..."

Martus'Xen snorted, disgusted by the mere presence of the younger, but superior officer.

"I bet he'll be so proud right about now," he added just to twist the knife.

Hanala bit her tongue. She wanted nothing better than to make the man suffer terribly for defacing both her and her father, Admiral Alaan'Jarvas vas Rayya. She was better than a sudden flare up of anger. She was better than falling to Xen's goading.

"This may work in our favour," Martus continued his voice like silk. "It provides us with a chance to escape, who's stopping us from killing your... _pet_ and fleeing. Over to the democratic faction, there might be some hope in you after all..."

Hanala snorted at the plan being hypothesized by the navigator.

"Escape with limited rations and leaving my ship in the hands of the Germans?" Hanala snapped back her response. "I did not think of you as so short sighted."

The smile on Xen's face withered as he glared hatefully at her.

"Besides," she pressed on, crossing her arms defiantly. "Father and the rest of the board decided almost half a decade ago to mould the fascists into something we can control. If you run and ruin this plan, I'll shoot you myself. I swear that."

She stepped closer to him and leaned in. Her lips curled into an awful sneer of her own for her subordinate.

"…or at the very least, disable your shields and let Hoch do it," she threatened the paling man.

"Is there a problem?"

Hanala trailed off as she turned to face the voice that belonged to the human mentioned only moments prior. Joachim'Hoch, His experimental assault weapon slung over his shoulders just as her was. Hanala shook her head, choosing against selling out Xen just yet.

The last thing she needed to do was explain to her father and the rest of the board why Joachim'Hoch decided to dangle the navigation officer over the side of the ship by his ankles.

"No problems, Herr Leutnant," Hanala happily spoke to the human joining her side, addressing his false Wehrmacht rank and ignoring the expression of horror on Xen's face. "Soldat Heinz Voigt was just leaving… right?"

Joachim'Hoch could only smirk as well.

"You heard your superior officer, double time it, Soldat!" Hoch shooed the soldier away, his eyes light with humour.

Martus'Xen, under the guise of a private named Heinz Voigt, glared at the two of therm, leaving his superior officers by themselves on the deck.

..

* * *

…

"Before you ask, don't," Hanala swiftly interrupted him before his thoughts became public. "I just want to ignore him. Martus will get his once the fleet arrives and I report him for insubordination. You have my word."

Joachim nodded reluctantly, deciding to oblige the fuming quarian captain, who turned from him and pressed her arms on the railing of the ship, her eyes cast out to the nearby battle group escorting them to Libya. Hoch joined her, resting his arms as well.

Quarians, it seemed to him at least, lacked discipline. Or perhaps Martus was a special hard case. Hard cases he could break; if he had been human and under his command, Xen would have been in the prison units in Russia, cleaning minefields under heavy fire.

"Those ships, who do they belong to?" she finally asked, breaking the odd silence between the two of them.

Hoch frowned as he forgot his anger for the quarian and instead turned to stare at the two war vessels.

"Regia Marina – the Italian Royal Navy," he answered for her gesturing to the speck of green, white and red flags the ships were flying... "That big one is the _Andrea Dora_ , the smaller the _Trento_."

Hanala looked at him vacantly, almost impressed.

"You seem a bit too knowledgeable for your own good," she stated matter of factually.

Hoch could only shrug.

"I thought I was just a simple mind, under my uniform." Hoch reminded her curtly, his head staring down at the foaming Mediterranean as he hid the humour in his expression.

"Apparently not," she murmured next to him.

Joachim again smiled slightly as he reached into his field jacket and pulled his cigarette box out. He pulled two cigarettes out and offered one to the quarian captain disguised as a human male. She looked at it briefly and shook her head.

"No, thank you," she politely declined as she turned away from the sea and back to the many men of German and Italian origin surrounding the two of them, unaware that an alien and an Schutzstaffel officer was commingling amongst them.

"They seem really... cheerful. Not quite as stern as your people," Hanala observed as she watched a young Italian man laugh boisterously to a joke told in rapid fire Italian.

Hoch inclined his head to the remark. Yes, there was something very enviable about the Italian. There wasn't a lot of expectations forced upon them.

"Italian sensibilities I suppose," Hoch chalked it off, placing the cigarettes back and casting a glare to one of the Italians who turned and heard him "Few professional soldiers in the Italian army, That's not a real issue amongst these regular infantry but when led by their unprofessional officers, It spells disaster."

Hoch paused and laughed at the confusion expressed by the quarian captain.

"Back in 1940, Italy declared war on France when they were on the brink of collapse by our blitzkrieg." Hoch explained himself, still mildly grinning. "They hit the French with over twenty divisions and were beaten to a pulp by a handful of burnt out Frenchmen. The only reason our _glorious_ allies got out of that situation was because the French surrendered to us."

He sighed as Hanala absorbed his information with an expression of shock. He glanced at the Italian soldiers conversing to one another.

"They're decent enough under a German commander and armed by us, but they need to be scrutinized when being led by their leaders."

"They sound like asari," Hanala observed, speaking softly.

 _Asari?_

Hoch rounded on her.

" _Asari?_ " The officer repeated. Instead of denying it, Hanala nodded her head.

"Another species, considered the most advanced race in the known galaxy," the quarian explained without any hesitation. "They devote most of their attention to the arts, democracy and diplomacy. They can wage war but not without help."

Joachim rolled his eyes. Sounded like Italians all right.

"They sound too idealistic for their own good," he grumbled. Hanala laughed and nodded, her face holding a vivid smile.

"They don't need a devotion to militarism." Hanala pressed on. "They have their chained varren, the turians doing most of their dirty work on their behalf. Turians... Xen was right, they sound eerily like your people."

Hanala laughed slightly, shaking her head as she tried to suppress the urge to giggle.

Before the human could inquire about turians and varren, both undoubtedly, powerful potential enemies to humanity if being used by this asari master race when a blaring of an air raid siren ripped through the air, emitting from the _Andrea Dora_ , _Trento_ and the transport they stood on.

Hoch looked up and widened his eyes. He cupped his mouth with his hands and, screaming with his diaphragm, he roared.

 _ **"DIVE BOMBERS! HIT THE DECK!"**_

...

* * *

...

 _ **"DIVE BOMBERS! HIT THE DECK!"**_

The deck surrounding the human and quarian exploded around them in a barrage of gunfire and wood splinters. Before anyone could react, the pilot and his plane was gone and Hanala was on the ground behind an iron railing.

Hanala looked around helplessly, surrounding them were the dead and wounded, splattered by the heavy fire, limbs thrown haphazardly across the ship's deck. Even a pool of blood was now streaming to pool around them from a young Italian soldier who had only moments prior, been laughing at a joke one of his friends had told. He and his friend were torn to shreds, their nerves still alive, kicking the corpse in place.

Hanala blinked and turned away, doing her best to ignore the blood now soaking her boots and fatigues. She instead turned to Joachim, who was not at all fazed by this... like this had been the most normal almost daily occurrence. Hoch stood up once more, grabbing her combat harness, he dragged the stunned quarian to the center of the ship, into better cover.

In the distance the anti-aircraft guns onboard the _Andrea Dora_ and the Trento lit up the brightening morning sky, battling off most of the incoming fighter-bomber aircraft, numbering easily half a dozen, but not the lead one, their attack. It had pulled around and dove at them again, weapons piercing through the top of the ship. Hoch cocked his rifle; Hanala followed his lead, both of them sharing a determined nod.

"Where the fuck is our Luftwaffe!" Hanala heard one of the wounded men, a young German scream at no one in particular, his eyes wide and wild.

"What Luftwaffe!" she heard Hoch roared right back, silencing the groaning soldier.

This time, the soldiers, a mixture of Italian desert troops and German Heer men fired back with whatever weapons in they could gather from the wounded and dead or were holding on themselves. A mixture of rifle fire, submachine guns, MG-34's newly issued MG-42's and even pistols were fired wildly at the incoming aircraft.

Hanala and Hoch stood from the cover, their prototype assault rifles raised as they too joined in the volley of small arms fire. The retaliation worked, it hit the dive bomber, but not as much as they had hoped. White smoke came billowing behind the fighter-bomber as it pulled out of its dive. The bomb release detached, hurtling the large explosive device at them.

 _ **"GET DOWN!"**_ Hoch screamed as he pulled the quarian to the ground.

The bomb missed connecting to the transport ship, instead exploding in the water. And again, Hanala was pulling herself up, her shielded eyes following the plane. She had a plan... it would work.

"Hoch, I want you to draw that planes attention," the quarian spoke to the human. "Attack the plane again."

Hoch turned his head and goggled at her. She could not blame him.

 _"Are you insane?"_

Hanala's mouth formed into a scowl for him to bear witness too.

"I have a _**PLAN**_. Tell me Joachim, do you want to live?" she questioned him; her voice sarcastic as the buzzing of the plane stopped growing distant and started coming back to them.

Looking very weary at her words, Hoch smirked slightly, his MKb-42 both reloaded and raised back up.

"You said my first name," Was all Joachim said as he hobbled away, his rifle held high over his head as he fired round after round at the incoming plane. Hanala smiled slightly, despite being soaked in human blood. So she did...

Hanala rolled up her right sleeve and revealed the small metallic omni-tool wrapped around her wrist like an expensive wrist watch. She tapped into it, her eyes peering over the cover to follow the descent of the fighter-bomber. The device turned blue and she aimed it as steadily as she could.

200 meters...

It fired once more, the stream of heavy cannon fire snapping around her.

100 meters...

Hoch bullets were joined by the rest of the soldiers. They fired collectively. Some hit, most missed.

50 meters...

 _NOW_.

A sudden electrical discharge snapped from her wrist, unseen by anyone and quicker than anyone noticed, it's magnetic surge connected with the aluminum fighter, spreading quickly into the engine.

The fighter sputtered and groaned the tell-tale sign that the overload function on her omni-tool worked. The fighter's engines burst to flames and poured thick, black smoke from out of the cracks in the plating. It simply glided into the Mediterranean with a dull thud and huge splash of water that sprayed the ship.

The other fighter-bombers scattered, some damaged by the naval escorts, others shot down in the fray. They didn't matter. This fighter-bomber shot down was their victory at a terrible cost of men. Hanala could ignore it as she slid down the side of the shot up bridge of the transport ship.

The sudden excited cheering dulled her senses as she glanced around. Her heart racing as she realized that Hoch wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"I've never seen anything like that before..."

Hanala turned swiftly, there walking slowly to her was Joachim, a dazed look on his face, his rifle barrel still smoking. She decided to keep quiet about what she did.

Hoch nodded as he realized he was not going to get an answer, and slumped in front of her. His hands dropping the rifle into his lap as his shaking hands reached for a gold box. Hoch's hands opened the box and pulled two cigarettes out, placing one into his lips as he offered the second to her.

Eying it, she accepted it this time, taking the cigarette and slipping it into her lips, mimicking Joachim perfectly.

"Welcome to the war, Captain," he murmured as he reached over and lit her cigarette.

With blood drying against her pale skin and suppressing the urge to cough as she inhaled the first of what was likely to be many cigarettes, Hanala nodded blankly, much too tired to speak.

...

* * *

...

 _"L'attenzione personale, aggancio comincia in dieci minuti; Segnala alle vostre unità. Che Dio sorrida e vi protegga."_

Joachim's eyes opened as he yawned. He glanced over and found Hanala passed out in the bed next to him, her hands gripping his arm so tight it was very nearly cutting off his circulation.

It had been an hour since the air attack. Joachim had dragged the dizzy, adrenaline drained quarian captain back to their private rooms and laid the woman down on the closest bed -his bed. He joined her out of convenience. It wasn't often he was used as bait so Hanala could impress upon him the vast technological superiority she possessed, burning out an engine diving at them at almost three hundred kilometers an hour.

It made him wonder what in the hell did these quarians want with the likes of them. They were capable of ending life on a planet, or so they claimed, In the Fatherland, rocketry was only just being born, the first turbo jets engines were still being designed apparently. What in the hell could they provide them?

"Is that what this war is like all the time?"

Hoch glanced over. Hanala was awake now, her eyes staring at the ceiling, her hands pulled from his arm and wrapped over her stomach. Hoch sighed and two turned his head up to the ceiling as she was doing.

"The war doesn't get much better then what you've seen and can only get worse for you," he admitted before pausing turning to her and adding. "Besides, you've killed humans before. Remember?"

Hanala closed her eyes again exhaling unsteadily.

"I'm sorry for killing your men," she returned, sounding like she had meant it.

Hoch shook his head against the pillow they shared.

"My company was rolled up into three other ones a week before we met," Hoch explained to her, closing his eyes, "I was reassigned. They were Wehrmacht, the regular army. If you want to apologize, then I suggest you offer it to Fuhrmann. You and your men killed three of his friends, his brothers in arms. Not mine."

Before the quarian could think properly about his words, Hoch sat up and pulled his helmet back on over his head.

"Come on," Hoch spoke again, offering his hand to the woman. "We're going to depart in ten minutes."

Hanala nodded and followed him back up, pulling her gear back on. She pushed the guilt from out of her mind. Both for the pilot she had effectively killed not an hour ago, and the men she helped kill on her first day on Earth.

...

* * *

...

"This weather is terrible. I'd rather back in Russia. At least I don't sweat there. Christ..." Fuhrmann complained, pulling off his helmet in order to get some air cooling his head. He wore much less gear then the quarians, yet the quarians seemed almost to relish in the heat the North African port city radiated.

"This place is perfect, Captain," Galas'Yoad spoke up, his voice awed as he turned around to glance at the vast city waiting for them. "The star is a bit brighter then I like, but manageable."

Sipping from his canteen, Joachim looked up to Hanala as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Galas' observation struck him as odd. Hanala only shrugged, pulling the strap of her MKb-42 over her shoulder.

"Rannoch is an arid world. This feels like home," Hanala explained smiling slightly to Joachim as she too glanced around.

The small force of quarians and humans gathered just of the transports gangway, checking their gear. For a team with the intention of mining for a rare element, they weren't exactly geared to perform a mining operation. At least that was what he had been wondering before Hanala explained that the probe launched by their ship would do most if not all of the work.

Yet again the wonders of quarian technology never ceased to amaze him.

For now however, they waited patiently for the Abwehr agent named Mueller to show. They waited as healthy soldiers moved off the ship and across the docks t their rallying point and watched as the wounded were carried on board by the many tired looking doctors, medics and nurses.

The roar of a low flying RAF Spitfire overhead caught their attention, this time however it was being chased by two Macchi C.202's of the Regia Aernatica, their machine guns firing in controlled bursts as they tried to neutralize the bird before it infiltrated Tripoli any further.

The rumbling of the prototype Tiger Tanks caught their attention away from the dog fight. They watched the metal behemoths, armed to the teeth with weapons the British would not be able to hide from roll slowly off the opened side of the transport ship and onto the docks.

Four of the Tigers past by them, the forth however, droned to stop. Hoch tilted his head as the top hatch opened. Out of it came the clad in desert camouflage Tank Commander. For a moment the SS man narrowed his eyes and then instantly widened them. He remembered him, he was the Panzer commander in Russia when they found Hanala and her subordinates.

"Afrika Korps?" Hoch asked the man. "Have you lost your mind?"

The commander belly laughed.

"Denmark was boring, Herr Sturmbannfuhrer!" he exclaimed back, not aware of Hoch's promotion. "I got tired target practicing at cows, horses, cars and bicycles. Blowing camels and Tommy tin can tanks up in this decadent piece of over-engineered machinery sounded much more appealing!"

Hoch allowed the almost sadistic Panzer Commander a mild grin. His hand snapped out into a salute, which the Commander returned and re-entered the port, the Tiger pulling out of neutral and back up to Rommel's armour pool undoubtedly. Before he could turn to tell Hanala who in the hell that had been, He noticed an officer, a major by the looks of it approaching him, ten or so men following him, all of their hands on their weapons, all of them looking directly at him.

Glancing at the quarians, then to Fuhrmann, Hoch stepped forward.

"Papers?"

Hoch obliged, his hands reaching into his tunic and producing his SS forged papers for the Afrika Korps officer. He took them and read them suspiciously, nodding every so often before he handed them back to the SS Obersturmbannführer in disguise.

"Mueller?"

The officer shook his head.

"Arrested and sent back to the Fatherland. Spies aren't welcomed. Welcome to Tripoli, Herr Lieutenant," the officer snapped with a bright, inviting tone. "There have been rumours floating of small squads of Waffen-SS infiltrating our reinforcements. I would like to see your arm."

Hoch froze. How in the _hell_ did they know? Did Mueller rat them out?

He did not move, nor raise the sleeve up for the Afrika Korps officer to show it. It did not both the major in the slightest. He stepped forward and simply rolled the sleeve up himself. He laughed as he saw what was marked on his skin since his reassignment into the Waffen-SS. Even Hanala stared, surprised at it.

"SS blood unit tattoo…" the man tsked as he let go of Hoch's arms. He smirked, adding. "It seems you went south when you were supposed to be heading east against stupid but strong Ivan, not smart and agile Tommy."

Had this idiot's brain been fried in the Africa sun?

"There was no mistake," Hoch pressed on, resisting the urge to insult the man. "Official orders permit my unit and I to operate in this theater."

He reached into his pouch and pulled the directives written by Langer, should this have had happened. The officer took them and stared at the papers wide eyed, not in shock but almost as though he could not read it.

"Infiltrating Tommy held territory isn't going to sit well with the General," the Major spoke up, handing Hoch's personal orders back to him. "Herr Generaloberst Rommel will have a fit when he finds out your kind is roaming his desert... I think its best we have you explain why you plan on mucking his operations up, If this mission really is for Reich security."

The SS man disguised as an Afrika Korps soldier simply stared at the man.

"And if I say no?" Hoch carefully probed, somewhat concerned by the posture taken by the troopers pointing their weapons at them.

The unnamed officer's smile somehow could only widen.

"We send you on the next ship back to Italy, like the case for any SS mission that has come before you."

Hanala and Hoch shared a look. Hanala nodded curtly, if the only way to not end up on the next ship home, then they would do it.

They would meet the Desert Fox.

…

* * *

…

 **Changes: Erased Martus'Xen calling humans inferior, made Hoch less humorous, erased mentions of Hanala knowing that the planes attacking them were Hurricanes.**


	7. The Wrath of the Desert Fox

**Chapter Seven: The Wraith of the Desert Fox**

 **...**

 _ **"BARRAGE, TAKE COVER!"**_

Sure enough, artillery shells rocked the city around them, forcing Hoch, Hanala, the rest of the quarians, Fuhrmann and the Major along with the escort following them close behind to scatter into a variety of places, from anti-tank ditches to craters left by many other attacks on the city since Rommel's withdrawal to Tripoli.

The English, it seemed, were not going to let them have an easy time inside the city. Hoch could not blame them. It was what they did to the Russian's in Moscow for months at a time before Rundstedt demanded a withdrawal much like his counterpart in Africa.

"Auchinleck is pissed at Herr Rommel," the Major explained as the barrage subsided. "Herr General Rommel beat his army to the pulp the moment he landed in Tripoli last year. The only reason we fell back was because we lacked the ammunition and fuel to kick them out of this continent. That won't happen again..."

They reorganized and carefully stayed out of the way of ambulances and medical personal who were gathering the wounded who were unfortunate enough to have not been spared by the falling high explosive shells.

Hoch glanced back to Hanala, who was only several steps behind him. She seemed to be cold to what was happening. The diver bomber attack shook all her allusions of what entering this conflict actually would involve. If she was right, if they needed this eezo stuff, then it was imperative that they do this; with or without the help of Rommel.

The conversation lapsed as they marched through the scorching streets of Tripoli. Fuhrmann looked as though he was seriously regretting dragging that massive MG-42 to the edge of the desert.

It wasn't before long they found themselves close to the front line. There were more troops roaming the streets and garrison shops, residential homes. Anti-armour guns were being entrenched as quickly as possible. Panzer's ranging from II to IV and even several captured English tanks were finding defensive spots to blend into. They were in all likelihood unable to go on any sort of meaningful sort of offensive.

Rommel, according to Langer's report on his Tripoli defense, had limited fuel for engagement. There would not be a major fuel shipment until Romanian synthetic fuels could be brought to this staging ground.

Oil, petrol… they were the lifeblood to Rommel's entire desert campaign, to any campaign really. Ammunition was plenty, tanks and guns could be repaired and quickly build in the manufacturing plants, troops could recuperate and be recruited. But without the gasoline flowing, his army would die.

Unlike the other campaign in the east, however, they would have a steady flow no matter how bad it could get. Rommel needed ships crossing the Mediterranean for his. This massive obstacle made reaching Persian oil fields, the only choice the General had to sustain the front. To do that, he now had to break the British and he had to break them now before the inevitable American involvement.

The Major paused and gestured to a grand building on his left. Surrounding it was trenches, machine gun posts and dug in tanks. This building appeared no more than a few hundred meters from the main lines.

Xen scoffed.

"What kind of Commander places his command building in the front lines," he muttered lowly.

"A good one," Hanala hissed back. "Someone who keeps perspective on his command grounded."

Hoch could not help quirk his mouth on one side at the hissed remark the woman issued to her subordinate. If Hanala wasn't dressed as a Heer soldier and was a human, Hoch could have probably kissed her.

Probably...

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

The headquarters of the Desert Fox was located inside a hotel conference room, built by the Italians at the turn of the century. Naturally, it was beautiful before the war reached this city several years ago. Today Tripoli was a shell of what it once was.

The room was loud with officers of all ranks speaking loudly as they argued how best to deploy their reserves for the coming raid against the city. Radios screamed across the city sectors, demanding reinforcements and ammunition, words being relayed back to the supply centers and reserve areas as quick as they came in.

The Major pause in place. Wiping his brow, he turned to the group.

"Wait here," he commanded the group.

The Major pushed past them and stepped away through the many officers and through a door on the other end, leaving Hoch, Hanala, Fuhrmann, Xen and Galas standing there in the doorway, unattended. They remained silent for a while, soaking in the loud shouts in both German and Italian.

"Do you think he will ask?" Hanala broke their silence. "I have one more translator to spare."

Hoch glanced to her and nodded.

"Undoubtedly," he said. He turned to the Unteroffizier and added. "Fuhrmann, Get access to the roof set up a position. The Afrika Korps is going to require all the extra firepower it can take. Galas, you can spot and assist him."

Fuhrmann stared at the quarian. He did not like the order, but like a good soldier, he pushed his personal feelings for the crash site quarians from out of his mind and nodded. Galas, obvious to the anger saluted Hoch and together, human and quarian headed to the closest route to the roof.

As two men left the room, they were replaced by two men entering.

The room suddenly snapped to attention, as did Hoch. Hanala and Xen, both followed his lead, much less professional then him but it worked. Hoch turned his eyes and found that he stood there only feet away.

He was shorter then Hoch had thought he would be. For a man of fifty there was almost a boyish quality to him. He wasn't as clean as the propaganda reels made him out to be. He was covered in dust and sand from head to toe. He pulled off his jacket and handed to his adjutant and stepped forward, dusting his officer cap with his thigh. His eyes scanning his men with a charm Hoch did not think possible.

It was him: the commandant of the Afrika Korps, the famed Generaloberst Erwin Rommel.

"At ease, continue your work, I apologize for my absence," Rommel finally spoke to his men. "I was at the forward operation post before I ordered a withdrawal. The British and Australians are mobilizing. The New Zealanders are covering their advance. We have an hour tops before the lead units make it here."

Most of the command staff obliged him and went back to their work. Several however, stepped forward to him, papers in hands.

"Herr General, our right flank had to spread its tanks out to the center to make up for the fighter bombers harassing the light tanks," the first man spoke quickly, his hands shaking as he handed the living legend his report.

Rommel arched his brow at him but turned his attention to the paper, taking it and reading the contents over quickly. His head snapped up, surprising the young radio operator into a state of attention.

"Realign rear anti-tank flak to fight back the aircrafts," the Generaloberst ordered, handing the paper back. "Provide them with as much ammunition we can spare. Munitions ships from Sicily haven't reach the docks yet and the Luftwaffe is refuelling their planes, so we will have limited air cover. As for the right flank, we received a unit of heavy Panzers. Place them on the flank and dig in as quickly as they can. I don't have much faith in their mobility."

The radio operator saluted and left. In his place was a second man. He too saluted and handed his own papers.

"General Bastico is demanding anti-armour to be issued to his men in his sector," the officer informed his commandant. "According to his report, all he has are a few short range Italian anti-tank guns and a dozen anti-tank rifles."

Rommel stroked his chin, his eyes glancing to the side and noticing Hoch. He looked right through the SS man and narrowed his eyes.

In that moment, Rommel knew exactly who Hoch answered to, even if his uniform stated otherwise.

"Of course he is." Rommel got out, turning away and back to the radio operator. "Send him half a dozen Matilda's and trucks towing as many Pak 38's as can be spared; that should hold his line together for a few extra hours. If his line collapses and I have no doubt that it will, have a regiment of my men on reserve to recapture the position."

Again the radio operator saluted and again he was replaced by a new man, Rommel however, must have been disgusted by the mere sight of Hoch and stepped past him and down to the main table situated in the center of the room, on it was the whole of Tripoli and the surround plains.

"Herr General, I'm being asked for orders by your mobile element as well as the Artillery section," the last radio operator inquired.

Rommel nodded as he leaned onto the table, his eyes wandered across the ma with the many unit formations laid out in front of him, until he stopped on a unit of tanks stationed deep behind the Tripoli defense line.

"Wait until the assault is underway. Swing around the left flank and cut the attacking force off from their staging grounds," he spoke as his hand swung around the flank and just in front of the English lines. "The artillery will line up where the Panzers have cut off the attackers. The Panzer radiomen will relay their position, and then they will pull back to the city, replaced with an artillery screen."

Rommel's thin lips smirked slightly.

"We'll trap these poor men..." He paused, glanced to the Feldwebel and added. "What is that American saying… _'Between a rock and a hard place?'_ "

The Feldwebel nodded. Whether he knew those words or not didn't matter. Agreeing with the Desert Fox was all that mattered. Rommel patted the soldiers shoulder and sent him back to his radio post as he stood up from against the table.

"I need prisoners, gentlemen," Rommel spoke to the room at large, his commanding presence felt by even the quarians who went rigid. "We need to know what we're going to encounter in the near future. So inform company and Panzer commanders that prisoners should be taken if the opportunity presents itself..."

He paused and smiled thoughtfully.

"I would suggest telling our artillery, but they prefer to let the buzzing of artillery speak of what they think about taking prisoners."

The room erupted into nervous laughter at the expense of the artillery corps. Hoch too chuckled, but dropped it the moment he saw the Afrika Korps Major approaching his commander, snapping a salute to him.

"Herr General, this is the-"

Rommel held his hand up and turned to Hoch, who went back to a state of attention as his hard eyes glared into his.

"Salute me, Leutnant," Rommel commanded, stepping forward, his hands behind his back. "I am your superior officer; and you will show me your respect."

Joachim hesitated for a moment. Finally he obliged saluting the General by bringing his hand to the side of his head. Rommel eyes hardened even stronger, his hand slapped his, pushing the SS officer's hand back off his head.

"That salute is reserved for real soldiers. Men, who fight, bleed and died for their country and for their comrades, in their Führer's name, yes, but with Fatherland, and their families in their heart." Rommel growled menacingly. "They are not like you, they are men who did not fight and die solely for a political party's advancement. You using it in front of the men of this room and myself is quite possibly the most disrespectful thing I have borne witness to in quite some time."

Rommel took a stepped back, his hands back behind him as he inspected Hoch, the room of officers and radiomen went silent as they joined Rommel and stared him down. Some out of pity, some jeering. Many were not sympathetic.

No, Herr Lieutenant," Rommel continued. "I want to see your real salute. I also want your real name and real rank."

Hoch exhaled unsteadily; finally, with as much dignity as he could produce, he brought his hand high in front of him and rigid as a board. The action made Rommel curl his lips into a smirk, satisfied that Hoch revealed what he represented.

"Sturmbannführer Joachim Hoch, Herr Generaloberst, on special assignment from Reichsführer Himmler himself," Hoch introduced himself.

Rommel stepped back towards him; he hand reached out and grabbed the uniform Hoch wore.

" _Himmler_... You know, wearing that uniform and using a real soldiers name as a cover is the second most disrespectful thing I've seen in quite some time," Rommel hissed, snorting in disgust.

The General turned away, ignoring the protesting look on the SS officers face.

"So, you're the SS agent who tried to bribe me with armoured units," he continued, turning back to his maps. "If you want me to even so much as consider your request, you and your squad get out to the front line and fight. I don't care where, or even if you survive. Tommy and his cousins will do me a favour killing the whole lot of you."

Hoch didn't speak. Red in the face, he turned back to the quarians. Martus'Xen was smirking at the beat down he had witnessed. Hanala, however, appeared concern. Before the team could leave, Rommel spoke again.

"I respect men who can fight and conduct themselves honourably, Herr Hoch," Rommel said. "Not try to buy me off."

Rommel shook his head and turned back to his closest Commanders, focusing back to the attack head of him.

Hoch, shaking with rage and shame turned away and stormed out, Hanala close behind him. Quietly she told Xen to head back out of the building and wait for them. Hoch sat there, a cigarette in his hand in the middle of being lit. She stepped forward lightly. He did not pay her mind as she took a seat next to him.

"Hoch?"

Hoch snorted and took a drag from his cigarette.

"When I get back to Europe, I'm going to beat the shit out of Langer for his arrangements," he muttered lowly. Hoch exhaled the smoke and added. "Come on, we have people to fight."

Hanala nodded apprehensively.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

"This place… it's too damn hot."

Panting in the scorching Libyan sun, Heinrich Fuhrmann set down the last of the ammo boxes filled with belts of 7.92×57mm Mauser rounds, next to Galas'Yoad, who was loading Fuhrmann's MG-42 on his behalf.

It was still hard to swallow... Working with an alien, it was a strange thing indeed.

It was not hard to see why Hoch forced them to work together. Whether the alien knew it or not, he definitely did not like the alien, or any of the aliens. Not the sarcastic asshole one, not the female who was leading Hoch around like a faithful dog… why would this one be any different?

He sat down on the opposite side of the MG-42, his hand grabbing his canteen and unscrewing the top.

"So... you're an alien..." Heinrich found himself saying aloud, sipping the water and closing his canteen just as quick as he opened it.

Galas'Yoad glanced up to the human. He seemed annoyed by the term.

"I could say the same thing about you."

Fuhrmann pulled off his helmet, slicking his wet chestnut hair back. He laughed shorty at the alien's words.

"Yeah... maybe if I was the one making contact on your world and killing your friends for no good reason," he pointed out, doing his best to be like Hoch and pushed all emotion out of his words.

Galas turned away, his shoulders seemingly shrugging.

"Your friends shot first."

"Your lot had... well... whatever that stopped bullets," The Unteroffizier hissed, pulling his binoculars from out of his belt. "They didn't."

"Hey you!"

The conversation died as Fuhrmann looked up from his view of the field and to the source of the call. It was from one of nine men manning a camouflaged 2 cm Flakvierling 38, its quad 20mm cannons all pointing to the battlefield below. Fuhrmann smiled nervously, the Afrika Korps trooper however, was not done.

"What the hell kind of person is that?" The soldier demanded to know, grinning as his friends laughed.

Fuhrmann turned to Galas whose eyes were held over the front, apparently obvious despite knowing full well that the question was being posed about him.

"He ah... He's a Cossack," Fuhrmann lied quickly, gesturing to the quarian. "He wanted to see the desert, so we came..."

The unnamed soldier squinted and turned back to his comrades.

"Jesus Christ, they'll take anyone in the Heer now," the soldier muttered, earning a renewed laughter from his friends. Fuhrmann laughed nervously and turned away, settling back behind his machine gun.

He turned and noticed Galas, staring at him as though he had done something grievous. Fuhrmann simply shrugged as he pulled his helmet back over his head and lifted the helm of the weapon.

"What?"tThe Unteroffizier spoke incredulously. "They never saw an alien before. Can you blame their curiosity?"

Galas scowled and turned away, choosing to remain silent on the issue.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

They waited.

They waited as they heard the rumbling in the distance grow closer and closer. Hanala watched as what appeared to be a dust storm kicked up by mobile armoured vehicles storming closer to them. Unrelenting, like the tales Grandmother told of the geth.

Hanala was never more frightened in her entire life.

She turned her head. Like waiting on the transport ship as the dive bombers attacked, he was unnaturally calm, his eyes squinting at the field of battle i front of him.

"The two of you stick close to me." Joachim spoke to them without looking. "Don't do anything other then what I do."

Hanala nodded and raised her rifle. On the other side of Hoch, Martus did the same. The cloud of dust was no longer cover for the vehicles. She could see them now. Heavily armed and looking for targets.

 **"** _ **FIRE**_ **!"**

At the scream of the local field commander, a volley of what Rommel called Pak 38's opened fire on the steel line of English and Australian tanks speeding towards them. The explosions were as the guns that were fired. Many were hit; most that were hit were stopped in their tracks.

The survivors fired back, the return volley hitting several crews of the anti-tank guns and forcing Hoch and her back down into the cover of the ditch. The three of them scampered up the side and rested their rifle clips on the dirt and rock as they waited and watched the tanks creep closer to them. Firing and moving in a zigzag.

Through the oily black smoke of the burning tanks and the thick Libyan dust storm, they came. Hundreds of Commonwealth infantry men supported by light vehicles with heavy machine guns bought from the Americans, as Hoch claimed. They fired on the line, their bayonets fixed as they charged.

Unlike the first war that Hoch had described, the Commonwealth troops actually thought for themselves. They dove as Hoch, Hanala and a thousand German and Italian desert troops attempted to repel them. Pistols to anti-tank rifles cut through them and the light vehicles.

Hanala watched the men that fell by her rifle, the pit of guilt pooling in her stomach came into her expression. She could not believe she was doing this. She was military, yes. She was trained to kill unthinking, unfeeling, genocide machines. Not flesh and blood that fell would rise again.

Yet... still she fired. Still she took life. Hanala had too. She had picked a side in this worldwide conflict and now she had to defend her choice and her very life.

Hoch was reloading. He was almost as grave as her. Perhaps they were not as different as he liked to imagine. He seemed genuinely distressed at what he was doing yet he was killing for the sake of his choice, for his life.

The English and the Australians could move no more closer. It had broken down into a bloody stalemate with the advantage going to the Afrika Korps. They were running out of tanks, The German anti-tank weapons were mostly still intact, firing and shattering the offensive where it stood.

In the distance, she see what appeared to be hundreds of tanks, German tanks, they cut off the forward attack like Rommel had ordered. As quick and as devastating as they were, it paled in comparison to what came next. Hanala could hear the whizzing of German artillery rounds covering the tanks retreat, forcing the enemy forces into continuing their advance.

There was no retreat now, only death or surrender.

Her wrist lit it up; a small image of Galas' strained face came through. He was barely audible where he was. The sound of a heavy machine fire ripped through the background.

 _"Captain, the enemy have broken the Italians in their sector,"_ Galas reported to her _. "I see many armoured vehicles and infantry breaking through the main line. Rommel's are counterattacking and so are some tanks being pulled off where they can."_

She turned and saw Hoch looking at it, his face resolute.

"Come on, this line doesn't need us. We'll assist them," he decided on her behalf.

Hanala fired the last rounds in her assault rifle, tearing open a fleeing rifle man and nodded quickly as she reloaded her human weapon. She wished she could have her assault rifle. She did not need to worry about reloading nearly often as she had to with these comparatively primitive weapons.

They stood up; Joachim gave Martus and her covering fire as they fled deeper into the city. Hoch followed, despite his old knife wound; he managed to keep up with them. They turned onto the closest road leading them to the western side of the city. Running past a aid station where the wounded were being treated.

Suddenly a word sent a shiver down her spine.

 _ **"HURRICANE!"**_

Hanala nearly froze in fear at the word Joachim used. She had killed one of their pilots and they were back to finish her and Joachim off. Especially her for what she did.

But midair through its strafing run at them, the plane was shredded to pieces and exploded over their heads, forcing the fire team to duck under the nearest cover, a flipped over supply truck. Hoch crawled just outside the cover as the wreckage hit the ground. Hanala and Martus followed. Groaning above them were planes, a dozen of them. Just behind them were another dozen planes, moving slower and appeared much more fragile. They were camouflaged like the desert and bearing iron crosses and swastikas.

"BF-109's and Stuka's," he explained with a grateful grin slapped across his lips. "The Luftwaffe is here. It's about fucking time. Come on."

At his call the three of them continued down the pathway. Stopping briefly as an armoured English tank lurched past them, it's back on fire and torn apart, courtesy of the heavy Flak .88 that had been stationed almost inside an artillery bombed church.

Hanala and Hoch, still running, raised their rifles and fired as the tank crew desperately tried to get out of the burning steel coffin. As they moved past the dead tank, the road exploded in dirt being kicked up, forcing him and the quarians to hide behind closest cover they could find - a mud brick wall.

 _ **"HALT, IDENTIFY YOURSELF!"**_ a voice roared at them. Hanala turned to Hoch who was squinting slightly. Slowly, the man stood up, shaking Hanala's hand from off his arm, both of his hands high in the air as he stepped out into the street.

"Obersturmbannführer Joachim Hoch!" Hoch spoke with his SS ordained authority back in his voice, having given up on his false identity. "We're coming out!"

He gestured to Martus and her. Hanala sighed nervously and stepped out, standing in the same posture as Joachim was her gloved hands high.

A sudden rumbling came from the hidden, unit. Finally what looked like dozens of Soldiers stepped forward from out of their concealed cover, their rifles no longer threatening the trio. Now instead they walked towards their position. One however came at them at a run and stopped before Hoch, His frame was thin, on his face was eyeglasses and a wide look at the presence of the SS-Obersturmbannführer, who seemed to have commanded this man's respect so much that he raised his hand over his head in the same salute Hoch used for Rommel.

"Lieutenant Lerher, 4th Company, sir," the bespectacled man spoke excitedly to Joachim. "If I may say so, my younger brother is in the Waffen-SS as well, Herr Obersturmbannführer."

Hoch smiled, bowing his head respectfully at the information. Hanala rolled her eyes at the display of bootlicking. Something Hoch definitely needed after his encounter with an agitated General Rommel.

"Personally I'm happy to have you and your squad here," The lieutenant spoke quickly. He gestured to the path him and his men were traveling and added. "We were on our way to relieve the Italian position. Having you three along will help."

Joachim nodded gravelly.

"As are we; Let's go," he commanded the Heer troops.

Lerher turned to his men and ordered them to press their advance through the city. Together, a hundred or so infantrymen, Hoch, Xen and herself moved as quickly as they could to where they needed to be.

"What division does he serve in?" Hoch asked as he unslung his rifle. Lerher glanced back.

"3rd SS Totenkopf, Herr Obersturmbannführer," Lerher spoke between deep breaths taken as he ran in the African heat. "He's a Rottenführer, somewhere in the Ukraine... maybe Kiev; haven't heard from him since then."

Hanala glanced to Hoch. He seemed to wince.

"Last I heard they were outside Leningrad." The colonel spoke carefully as they followed the company past a burnt out Hanomag. "You must be proud. He's... doing his duties."

"I am, Herr Obersturmbannführer." The Lieutenant agreed, not noticing the paused reluctance of the superior officer. "I would have followed him had it not been for these."

He gestured to his glasses. Hoch allowed him a thin smile.

"The Heer is just as commendable, so long as you serve your fatherland in some way," he praised. "Besides, can your brother claim to have fought alongside the bane of the English? The notorious Desert Fox?"

Lerher laughed and nodded, his own ego inflated somewhat. Shooting the colonel a Wehrmacht salute, he quickened his pace, leaving Hanala and Hoch in his dust. Running and fighting the somewhat higher gravity of Earth, Hanala managed to laugh slightly.

"After that ego wounding from Rommel, I imagine that... that praise felt pretty good, didn't," Hanala teased in a whisper as the Afrika Korps officer picked up speed.

Hoch cast her an expression of mild annoyance, but he did not voice it.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

The buzzing of his machine gun resulted in another Rifleman being cut down as he ran to cover. Fuhrmann ignored the small feeling that bubbled up whenever he took a life. Instead he swung his MG-42 and fired another burst, scattering several men back behind the safety of a burning M3 Stuart.

The quad 20mm flak cannons fired again connecting with another light tank screeching towards hem across the desert sand. The fuel tank exploded, engulfing the Panzer in thick flames.

" _ **DIRECT HIT, GOOD SHOOTING, NEXT TARGET**_." He heard the AA observer scream. As the crew waited for the next target to present itself, Fuhrmann watched as the hatch of the light tank open and out came a Tommy tanker, his clothing set ablaze. Fuhrmann winced and relocated his MG-42, firing a short burst at the man on fire.

As the tanker collapsed, He knew that did the poor bastard a favour.

"Hiding behind that house, just behind the burning tank are four infantrymen," he heard Galas'Yoad call beside him.

As Fuhrmann moved his MG-42, he noticed the men behind the burning Stuart's attempting a rescue of a wounded man only feet away from them. Deciding not to impede their rescue of a friend, Fuhrmann turned his attention to the home and opened up the last of his belt against the building, tearing through the lightly built home.

Galas nodded slightly, he pulled a fresh belt from out of the closest ammunition box and passed the belt to the waiting gunner.

"They're all down, Fuhrmann," Galas informed the human. "To your left, three setting up in that crater, focus fire on them."

Finished inspecting the barrel of the weapon, Fuhrmann reloaded his MG-42 and looked up to the quarian, his face contorted into one of confusion.

"How do you know all this?"

Galas seemed to smirk, he took off his goggles. Galas showed the insides of them making the young man gape. Inside were a lot of bright lights and an extra layer of glass.

"Modified the goggles," the alien explained as he pointed it out. "Installed a wireless thermal scanner and targeting device."

Targeting device? Thermal Scanning? Heinrich had no clue what the hell that was, but if it would help him stay alive he was more than willing to try it.

"Can I use it?" he asked hopefully.

Galas turned away.

"No."

Fuhrmann hung his head in utter defeat at the refusal.

Suddenly the men Galas had pointed out in the crater knew where the MG nest was firing from and opened up on them, forcing the quarian and human to duck away from their position as the bullets slammed around them. Before Fuhrmann could gather his wits, the crater exploded with 20mm rounds shredding through every man that hid in there.

Fuhrmann turned back and saw that the AA gun crew was repositioning itself once more. Only the observer was focused on them. His face contorted into a look of rage.

 _ **"PAY ATTENTION, YOU IDIOTS. THESE AREN'T RUSSIANS. TOMMIES ARE TRAINED AND ACTUALLY WANT TO STAY ALIVE! IT'S A BAD COMBINATION FOR,"**_ he screamed at the two men before turning back to his field binoculars.

Fuhrmann turned his attention back to the battlefield; shamed... he really didn't want the observer's next target to be Galas and himself.

Galas sighed, clearly annoyed.

"Didn't I tell you to target the crater?"

The human rolled his eyes and targeted the next closest attackers he could find.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

The Italian line was stabilized for the time being. It was a close call, but they turned the tide just enough that the main force of the English and Australian advance had fallen back behind their lines through the hail of artillery fire for the time being. Risking the uncertain of falling high explosives seemed a safer option then the certainty of a well-aimed bullet.

However, the damage was done. A sizable pocket had escaped into the city of Tripoli and was waging a furious battle of survival as they looked for a crack in the stabilized Axis line.

Saying goodbye to Lerher, Hoch, Hanala and Xen departed, joining in the manhunt the reserved forces were performing. The order had been issued. Take prisoner first and foremost.

Well... if that was what Rommel wanted, then that was what Hoch would try to do.

At the moment they swept through one of many war torn streets, strewn across the field of view were German and Commonwealth bodies killed in the brief but fierce combat they had seen. Trucks and tanks from both sides were burning bright. Joachim glanced to Hanala and found her head darting back and forth. Her rifle raised and aimed. She was shaking with paranoia.

With good reason as well; the clattering of a Bren gun fired upon them, forcing them to dive, their rifles and Xen's MP-40 firing back. Through the dust and smoke, he saw them. Englishmen, their Enfields and Sten guns raised and peppering them as they too searched for cover. As one rifleman crossed the street, the two of them fired on him, dropping him hard to the ground.

Something dark, round flew into the air and at them from the English. Hoch's eyes widened.

" _Grenade_!"

He stood up, dragging Hanala by her combat harness where together with Martus, they held the street from an advancing squad, he threw her through a wooden door, using her body as the means to open it. The small explosive blew, shredding the thin door in half and colliding into the living mass on the stone floor. The two of them hissed as the debris hit them hard.

"Oh Keelah... what the hell was that," she grumbled, her eyes looking up to the man lying flat on top of her.

Hoch did not reply to the words. He pulled himself slowly off Hanala and dragged her up back onto her feet. As the dust cleared, it was clear as day they were short one member of their squad. Xen.

He exhaled and squinted down to the quarian next to him.

"He's not essential, is he?"

Hanala shook her head.

Joachim did his best not to verbally hope that the grenade turned the son of a bitch into a fine mist.

Picking their rifles up, the two of them hobbled away from where they were laying. They needed to gather their bearings, locate Xen if there was still a Xen to locate and reposition themselves back with Fuhrmann and Galas no more than a block from here.

Unfortunately for them, The English were never known to relent when on the offensive. They paused as they hear boots running towards their position. Far too many boots for Hanala and him to combat this exposed. Hanala seemed to understand what he was thinking and together they limped to the far corner of the room, finding several crates filed miscellaneous surplus gear.

They hid, Hanala on his lap so they both could share the cover as the boots drew closer and inside the grenade damaged building. Together they drew their breaths.

"Are they in there Corporal?" Hoch heard one of the men speak up.

"No sir... I think we hit something... but... blood isn't supposed to be that dark, is it?"

Hoch's eyes widened as the translator worked for even the English. He froze at his words and turned down to look. The Tommy was right. One of them was bleeding and it sure as hell wasn't him.

It was Hanala.

She sat there on him, looking strained to breath. Hanala was hit. A piece of the door was stuck in the side of her pelvis. He moved to find his aid kit but was stopped by Hanala's hand batting his hand away from another distraction. She slid off him, hiding in the corner next to him.

 _"Don't worry about it yet,"_ Hanala whispered, her hands shaking as they gripped the wound tightly. _"Kill these bosh'tet's. I'll be fine."_

Giving the tough quarian woman an appraising look and deciding not to ask what that word mean, Hoch dug into his harness and produced the last of his Stielhandgranate. He quickly unscrewed the bottom as the British crept closer to them.

He tugged the cord.

 _1...2...3..._

With two seconds left on the fuse, he hurled it over their cover and forced Hanala down back underneath him.

The explosion was deafening, blowing flesh and smoke everywhere. The screams in agony were the aftermath. Pulling Hanala to her feet, they both limped out of their cover. Both of their rifles rose at the mess he had made. There were six of them. Keyword being _'was'_. Three of them were dead, covered in burns and wounds. The other two were moaning, wounded badly, and in need of medical attention, so bad, one had lost his arm.

The last one was stunned, a lieutenant by the looks of it. He was pulling himself back up from off the floor, unaware that Hanala and Joachim had their rifles drawn at him. He went for his sidearm but was stopped with sound crack of Hoch's rifle butt slamming into his cheek, knocking him back down.

"Get your friend back here, I'll find a medic for these two." Hoch softly spoke to Hanala. He reached into his pocket and offered her one of his cigarettes. Hanala nodded and accepting it, allowing the human to light it.

Hanala's head nodded weakly again as a sign of thank you, keeping her rifle raised at the dazed officer. Patting her arm and giving her a comforting smile, Hoch pushed past her and out of the wreckage of the doorway. He managed to get a few feet from the entrance that was when he heard it.

The squealing sound of panzer tracks rolling towards him.

Hoch froze. He found himself staring at two approaching light tanks. As soon as his nerves came back to him, he dived behind the closet cover, knowing it was futile.

" _ **HOCH**_!"

The man glanced up. It was Martus'Xen, in the opposite building from where Hanala and him were sheltered in. He was wounded, but superficially, just scrapes and burns.

Fortunately for both man and quarian they were not focused on him just yet. The rumbling of their engines and tracks were suddenly and utterly drowned out by the roar of a third tank turning the corner to face the pair down. It was one of the behemoth tanks.

The Tiger.

Its long barrelled .88 calibre main gun swivelled around to face the English tanks. The two light tanks came to a halt and immediately pulling themselves out of the situation they had found themselves in. One fired, then the other. The Tigers frontal armour absorbed the blows as though they had fired rifle rounds at it.

The Tiger fired back.

The explosion against the first tank that fired on the massive heavy tank tore the turret in half. The Tiger turned its gun and before the second tank could retreat, the Tiger gutted it, caving the front of the light tank.

The two tanks, now twisted and smoldering wrecks created a smoke screen for the Tiger. The hatch popped open and out climbed the Tank Commander, from the First Contact with the quarians. His wide menacing grin planted on his face as he and his scar faced radio operator climbed off the tank armed with MP-40's.

"Herr Sturmbannführer, I see you are hurt." The commander observed, gesturing to the blood on his fatigues.

"It's Obersturmbannführer now. It's not my blood," the SS-Obersturmbannführer corrected swiftly, his hand gripping the panzer commander's arm as he added. "I have several wounded prisoners. Can we load them up and take them back to the aid station?"

The panzer commander glanced back to his radioman.

"Of course," he finally agreed. "Rolf, come. We have wounded to gather."

Pushing past Hoch, the two panzer men headed to the building. They paused briefly as Hanala pushed herself back outside, cigarette in her lips and limping harsh as her Mkb-42 was shoved hard into the spine of the British officer, his hands high above his head as he ignored the blood coming out of his mouth from the blow inflicted by Joachim.

Hanala stopped her body swaying as she looked faint, even though she wore those goggles. Resisting the urge to comfort her, Joachim turned to Xen who looked burnt out.

"Martus, help her to the Panzer..." he commanded Martus'Xen, who nodded and tugged the woman away from the officer and back towards where he had been standing.

Joachim stepped forward, one hand idly carrying the rife as he stepped forward and pulled the Webley revolver out from the officer's belt on his behalf. He glanced back and found the panzer commander and his radio operator, their hands and sleeves soaked in dark blood.

"They're dead, Herr Obersturmbannführer," the commander sighed, shaking his head. As the two men climbed back onto the tank, the Englishman's eyes were wide as they stared at him furiously.

"You're SS?" he rasped, his cheekbone was clearly broken thanks to his doing. Joachim simply stared at the man, who apparently understood some of the German language, enough at least to get the idea of what Hoch was.

Hoch leaned forward over the Englishman.

"I suppose that this did not go as planned, did it?" Joachim taunted the captured officer, switching to his second language, English for him.

The Englishman nodded, his head lowering.

"We were warned about trying to corner the Desert Fox." He mumbled in a low groan. "Apparently breaking into Tripoli is like sneaking into a wolf's lair."

Looking to Hanala, who was barely conscious, herself, he turned back. Hoch didn't reply to the officer's words. He simply rose the butt of his rifle and allowed it to the talking, the sheer force breaking the man's nose and knocking him cold out.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 **Vallhallan Threshold Cluster**

"We have spent the past ten hours scanning for any sign of them. So far nothing but the faint trail of element zero around the planet's orbit... I'm sorry but between this and communication lines not being answered. It's not looking well."

"Oh Keelah, Alaan, you don't think..."

Turning away from Navigator Petree, Admiral Alaan'Jarva vas Rayya nar Rannoch felt his hand squeezed by someone close. It was his wife, the mother of his lost daughter, Galina'Jarva vas Rayya, who was close to losing control of herself at the thought of their child lost, potentially... potentially.

The Admiral exhaled unsteadily. No he wasn't going to lose her. She was as well trained as one could be. If she landed safely, she knew what to do. She knew to stay with the ship.

He silently thanked the intelligence gatherer and ushered him out of their room. Glancing to his heartbroken wife, Alaan's hand squeezed hers back. Galina looked up, her eyes wet as she slid over close to her husband, her arms wrapping around his waist.

"Hana is alive... she has to be alive... I can feel it."

Alaan nodded, trying to believe in his wife's positive thoughts. Without any words to comfort her, he instead hit his commlink private line to each of the Admirals whom controlled the fate of the thirty thosand strong quarian migrant fleet, now waiting for their next directions. He watched as each member of the board answered his call almost immediately.

"Admirals of the board, this is Alaan'Jarva vas Rayya, there has been a situation that requires your council," he addressed the board. He paused for a moment as he added. "The humans may be aware of us."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: toned down the swearing, made it more clear about the extent of Hoch's English abilities.**


	8. Musings

**Chapter Eight: Musings**

...

 _Aliens._

To Gerd von Rundstedt, now mulling over the events of a few days ago, it sounded like something out of the old H.G Wells novels he read as a younger man, before the Führer had them burned and replaced with Jew hating literature published by that brute, Streicher or the intellectual lunatic Alfred Rosenberg.

Quarians, a race the young SS officer professed to be capable of ending their existence, but was instead holding a branch of peace between Germany and this off world power. It sounded like a noble endeavour.

The thing was, he did not trust the brown shirt mob and especially not the SS to do this. It wasn't the Wehrmacht that betrayed every promise it made to the western powers. It wasn't the Wehrmacht who pushed for war against Russia so prematurely, a war that was not ready to be waged just yet.

The blame laid at the feet of the Party and by extension their finger in military affairs the SS. In his own opinion, he was more than certain that if this alien people ought to be making deals for the survival of the Reich, it shouldn't have been with that repulsive, scrawny chicken farmer, Himmler.

No, instead the aliens should be making deals with the only competent form of government Germany had in actuality: the Wehrmacht itself. But, that would not happen... the fantasy of a Wehrmacht seizure of power was full of uncertainties. One simply did not wage a civil war in the midst of a war of survival. Not without good reason.

So, for the time being, he would continue to obey the demands of the party. He was a good soldier who served the Fatherland faithfully since 1892 -fifty years of following orders for those in charge –from Kaisers, to Presidents to Führer's. It was not that he did not believe in the same sort of destiny that the Führer had decreed... He too eagerly sought for the continued strength and growth of his beloved Fatherland, as did any decent, upright citizen of his great nation.

What bothered him was the way that the Führer had ordered him to wage war, looked at the war. Not just as a struggle of ideology, which he had no problem fighting for. It was the matter of genetic superiority that left a bad taste in his mouth.

Make no mistake about it. He had no love for Russians and the Commissor and NKVD death squads leading them to their deaths and he especially had no love for the Jews who occupied his nation for so many years; But to have them simply rounded up, their property taken without so much as compensation and then deporting them to settlements out east? It all seemed... off.

Ultimately it really wasn't in his best interest to make a complaint to any of these actions, nor did he have the power to do something about government policy. His occupation was war, not dealing with the Jewish problem and the Communists spreading disease across his beloved Germany. Again, in the end, he was simply following orders.

Following orders. If they lost the war, it was more than likely most who made that claim would meet their ends at the end of a hangman's noose or by firing squad.

"Opa! Father's here!"

Generalfeldmarschall Gerd von Rundstedt looked up from his cigarette and to the source of the excited call to find little Barbara wrapped around her father's, his son's leg. There was a friendly smile on Hans Gerd von Rundstedt's mouth as he shooed his daughter off with a kiss on her forehead.

"Father, I see your new secretary is doing an admirable job." Hans spoke stepping towards his father, adding. "As I understand it, you haven't been much fun as of late."

The father stood briefly and shook his son's hand, gesturing for Hans to join him on his couch. He inhaled his cigarette and found that his son was staring at him, as though he was disapproving of his habit.

"Might I remind you you just had a heart attack, father? Should you really be smoking?" Hans chastised as he leaned into his seat. "Think what you will about him, but the Führer does have a point about how unhealthy a habit it is."

The Führer… to hell with him and his overzealous standards commonly exhibited by teetotallers who thought themselves on a higher morality then those with these vices. Gerd took one last drag before stubbing his cigarette out violently, the action earning an odd looking from his son.

"Father, is something troubling you?" Hans asked delicately. "Mother says you haven't been sleeping well lately."

The Generalfeldmarschall looked up to his son wearily. Hans was much too sensitive for his own good to be considered much of a soldier. He was the first in the long line of Von Rundstedt's that chose an academic career over officer training academy, breaking traditional commitments to the state that had existed since the first days of Fredrick the Great.

As disappointed as he was intitally, he got over oit and embraced it, finding a sort of pride in his son's intellectual nature. He was a smart young man, smarter than he certainly was at Hans' age. Hans thought for himself, and that was a rare trait in the Fatherland these days.

While Hans was not commited to war like his father and his ancestors were, he was willing to serve in spite of it out of national pride. It was all the father could ever ask from his son.

"The SS are keeping a secret and I'm trying to determine where I stand about it," Von Rundstedt finally grumbled, breaking his word to the SS man in favour of his son.

He watched as Hans frowned at the remark.

"The SS keep a lot of secrets, Father, none of them decent in the slightest," Hans' sage response rung true in the older man's mind. "What makes this one such a burden to stress yourself with?"

The elder Von Rundstedt leaned into his seat as he remained locked eyed with his son, looking for a way to word it without sounding like a total maniac.

"Because," he finally spoke back to Hans slowly, carefully. "It could change everything we know. What I tell you does not leave this room."

As Hans nodded and swore his secrecy, Rundstedt sighed. This secret was going to be the death of him.

...

* * *

...

"Completely unacceptable Admiral Jarva, how could she be so... so _reckless_! The humans are not ready to meet us."

"It was an accident, Vaerhit. An accident you cannot simply accuse her of without a basis. Besides, this meeting was bound to happen. We agreed on it seven years ago, remember?"

"I never agreed to anything. Even if I did go along with this, that was before the authoritarians lost their minds and started fighting their _entire_ planet! This was a mistake. They will be lucky to survive the next year."

Admiral Alaan'Jarva vas Rayya rubbed the bridge of his thin nose. Habva'Vaerhit was a difficult man. He could not fault his trepidation. Uplifting a species was a huge gamble. On one hand, they needed to get their home world, but they needed to do it smart. There had already been two offensives against the geth in the span of thirty five years, but failed. They had at best one more chance before they were reduced to what the council planned for them the moment the geth took Rannoch: Vagrants, roaming the vast empty space without the ability to do anything but survive.

As tempting as it was to uplift this race, they had to they had to worry about making sure that they did not turn the humans into the next krogan. Unleashing them on the galaxy to fight one menace only to have them turn around and nearly destroy those who made them. The process would have to be a slow one. Adapting thisrace3 to higher technology over the course of decades before stepping back into the galaxy with a grand galactic-wide war planned.

"Then we still go to Earth," Alaan returned, earning a scowl from Habva. "We can intervene; force a fascist victory or at least a stalemate. We need their survival for our plans to work."

Admiral Utala'Falan vas Idenna stood from her seat and sat down next to Alaan.

"First, Alaan. I'm more than certain Hanala is fine," Admiral Falan spoke reassuringly, her hand patting his forearm. "She's a tough, smart young woman. If she crashed, then I'm certain she's evading the humans. If they spotted her... well I am just as certain she won't give our secrets up."

Alaan nodded gratefully, grateful for her assurances and just as glad that Falan could see reason.

"Secondly, I'm in an agreement with you," she continued her tone less reassuring and much more formal. "We have to salvage the situation for the fascists. We agreed, with an exception to Admiral Vaerhit, who dissented, and Admiral Zorah, who has only just joined the board, that the fascists were the most politically mouldable of the three factions. The democracies are divided and bicker amongst each other; eventually they would use us, the Communists are quasi cultists, their leadership has purged resistance out of their army and terrorized their countrymen into complete submission."

Falan gestured to the youngest and newest member of the board. Admiral Halid'Zorah vas Hyleon, who sat there in their group quietly, and looking very out of place among the older quarians. Unlike the other sitting around him, at the age of thirty two, Admiral Zorah was first generation ship born with a child on the way. He had fought for Rannoch, in the second offensive, but he never stepped foot on the homeworld.

"What say you Admiral Zorah?" Alaan spoke kindly to him. "Surely you have an opinion."

Across from Alaan, Admiral Zorah cleared his throat.

"I can appreciate the strength they show, Admiral Jarva. I'm also impressed by how rapidly they have developed without our help," Halid spoke up for the first time officially to him colleagues. "The democratic nations of this world have a unique strength as well, but they lack the same... convictions and discipline as the fascists. The capitalists will be useful in the future. We will have to reach out to them as beneviolent benefactors, not as conquerers, or else we will never be accepted-"

 _"Admirals, this is Captain Kalas'Balive vas Rayya,"_ the Captain of the Rayya cut across Zorah. " _We are preparing for relay jump in half an hour."_

Admiral Falan stood up and straightened out her uniform.

"I think we can adjourn on that note until we get some updates," she suggested to her colleagues.

With that the Admirals that gathered with an exception to Admiral Jalina'Calis vas Kareon, who was halfway to Earth by now stood and departed, leaving Alaan still sitting in the meeting room, silently praying on behalf of his missing daughter. Glancing up, he found Halid'Zorah still standing there looking like he needed to talk.

"Admiral Zorah, How can I be of assistance?" He spoke, gesturing to the young admiral to join him.

"I have been reading into what history our intelligence gatherers have put together," 'Zorah spoke stepping forward. "Alaan, does our support really have to go to these National Socialists? Their government is centered on racism and blood superiority... it is sheer madness."

As Alaan directed full attention to Zorah, the younger Admiral took a breath and exhaled.

"It's just... I'm worry what the rest of the galaxy will think once they learn of what we've done," he explained himself, sounding resign to the decision made before he had any say to it. "We've unleashed the geth on this galaxy. I'm just worried the humans may not be much better."

Alaan leaned into his seat. He had the exact same concerns as Zorah had in the beginning.

"Behind the veneer, The National Socialists aren't as unified as they look." Alaan said, looking up to Zorah. "I cannot order you to do it, but when we get there. I need someone to find any cracks. Rifts we can... _exploit_. Their current government is incompatible with our goals, but in general they are exactly what we need."

Halid nodded, it was a silent gesture that he would take charge of the operation. Giving Alaan one final bow of his head, the younger admiral departed, leaving Alaan alone, alone with his worries for his only child.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

"Really, I'll be fine, Joachim. What you did to me when we first met hurt much more. Honest."

Hanala ducked her head as a slight blush hit her cheek all thanks to how closely the human was staring at her, His arm was around her shoulders in an attempt help walk her back to the Afrika Korps headquarters. She didn't need his help. The stim-bandages would keep the wound clean and help heal much quicker than the primitive medical supplies Joachim had offered to her. Not that she was ungrateful.

Xen left an hour ago. Hanala needed some time to gather her senses, between the painkillers and the pain shooting through her. Hoch had him drag the unconscious enemy lieutenant back to the headquarters after Hoch taught Martus how to say " _We captured him_ " in his language...

The star was setting over the smoking city of Tripoli. Creating a haze that smelled of fossil fuel and dead blood. It was still hard to believe what they had just gone through actually happened. It was even harder to believe just how many lives she had taken in the space of three hours.

"I don't recall throwing a grenade at you," Joachim spoke next to her. His arms abrupt let go of her and allowed her to stumble in place.

Hanala nearly cried out as the pain caught her off guard. She was tired, hungry and very thirsty despite being naturally attune to this arid environment. She would have drank from her canteen had it not been for the shrapnel damage it absorbed. Hanala sighed, she would have asked Hoch for his had it not been for her fear of contaminated consumables.

She groaned as Hoch continued to walk, purposely ignoring the pain that was shooting through her body.

"Okay, okay... I wasn't being honest," Hanala finally mumbled, admitting her handicap. "Come back... I need your help."

Joachim paused and turned back, his face contorted into a look of annoying satisfaction. Hanala soon found the humans arm around her shoulders. Her own arm gripped him as together they moved at an elcors pace. They passed by a dozen desert troops, armed and taking twice as many commonwealth prisoners of war back to the closest detainee center they could fine.

"I got no help from you when you stabbed me," Joachim mused, smirking as a truck with a large red cross past by them, followed by a troop carrier.

Hanala rolled her eyes.

"Yes... and you tried to choke the life out of me, you kicked in my ribs and not only did you also nearly tear out one of my suit sterilized O2 rebreather, you used me as a shield against Xen and Galas," she listed off one by one, watching as Hoch looked surprisingly somewhat guilty.

Deciding that things between them were not worth damaging over a terrible first encounter, Hanala decided against pushing it and instead glanced around the battle scarred city. All of this seemed so futile, all the death and destruction seemed like such a waste. She could not exactly blame Hoch and the fascists, nor even the English. She had only the faintest idea what this conflict was about; she wasn't in a position to judge.

"I imagine this city was beautiful before the war hit it," Hanala pondered, smiling slightly as she gestured around. "This would be a perfect place to place a quarian settlement here."

Hanala watched Joachim's face scrunched up at the remark.

"A settlement?"

She nodded. It was against all explicated orders to speak of future goals involving the humans just yet. But considering they were here by Hanala's deception, she might as well tell Joachim one of the reasons they stood in this city.

"Yes. A permanent residence for quarians here on Earth," she decided to admit to him. "We have to make our presence known one day soon. Its best we do so by showing we are not much different then you. First contact revelation can be quite stressful. We must convey of intentions for peace."

"Peace..." Hoch repeated, looking close to laugh at the remark. "Just don't shoot at you or strafe you. Otherwise you'll shoot back or blow up some poor bastard's engine when he's diving at three hundred kilometers an hour."

Hanala scowled and slapped the Obersturmbannführer's arm. She was trying to forget the lives she had taken. Here he was reminding her as though it had been a badge of honour. It must have been a human thing, relishing in their ability to kill. Before she could question it the sound of an engine approached them, slowing down. It was tan toned open top vehicle. It slowed down and came to a full stop. Only one man stepped out of the vehicle.

Rommel.

The man known as the Desert Fox (Whatever that that was) approached them in a brisk pace. Hoch did not tighten into a state of attention. He maintained his arm around her and stared wearily at the General who had stopped in front of the two battle-weary people. His frown curved slightly a ghost of a smile for them.

"I've received several reports about an unlisted squad assisting the main line, and then helped recapture the Italian position," Rommel finally spoke. "On top of that, your man brought me a mostly intact lieutenant for questioning."

Patting Joachim's shoulder, Rommel turned and went back to his vehicle.

"You have impressed me, enough to listen to your intentions, at least," Rommel added before stepping back inside his vehicle. "For now, I must inspect the lines. You and your squad are guests. There should be a few rooms to spare at the headquarters."

Nodding his head, Rommel and his entourage of officers drove off past them, leaving Hanala quietly happy that their mission could finally start soon.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

"Mind repeating that?"

"Operation Rage is set for March 1st. I want you and your team to make the hit."

Lieutenant Commander Alexander Ferguson slid the confidential command papers across the desk.

They were taken by large calloused hands. One of which, pulled back to stroke his large non-regulation full beard, curly and dark with speckles of grey touching against it. The only reason he was allowed to be so grizzled was to hide the massive chunk taken out of his face from an exploding potato masher back in '40, holding the Germans back from the Dunkirk evacuations.

He recuperated and after being discharged from the army, signed on with the newly formed SAS, which was much less focused on Lieutenant Lachlan Angus Shepard's appearance and much more impressed with his ability to kill Jerries.

Despite the wound, Lachlan was still a bear of a man. Standing in at 6'7, 20 stone. He spent the better part of 1941 in the desert, harassing the Italians until Rommel showed up with his men and started beating them back to Egypt and Tunis.

"Austria... and how do you suppose on getting us into Austria, Ferguson?" the Commando rumbled, leaning into his seat and looking incredulously up to the intelligence officer.

"February 27th," Ferguson explained as he leaned onto desk. "The RAF is planning a raid on Kiel. Jerries will undoubtedly scramble everything to support the city. You will come in on high flying Jerry marked transports and drop fifty kilometers outside of Vienna. Austria doesn't maintain a huge military presence outside their city. Love the Nazis they do. Move fast and meet several members of Vienna's local resistance cell, the O5."

Shepard did not like this in the slightest, Ferguson could not blame him, but with war came messy assignments, and this one was going to be an exceptionally dirty spy, hit and attack assignment.

"Extradition?"

"Switzerland," Ferguson spoke, earning a pointed stare from Lachlan. "We'll fly in a transport plane with identification from Brazil, carrying several bankers. Favours owed to us for overlooking their Nazi sympathies. They'll break you out and bring you right here."

Reaching into his pocket, Shepard pulled out his pipe and idly played with it.

"Eight hundred kilometers of dodging Jerries isn't exactly what I consider safe for neither my men nor I," Shepard grumbled, closing the report. "We're commandos, yes. We kill Germans, most definitely. But we're not bloody miracle workers... with all due respect, Sir."

Ferguson leaned back into his seat and allowed the Scot to light his pipe.

"The amount of scientists roaming this museum is worrisome." He pressed on, trying to convince the man. "Rocket scientists, nuclear specialists... We need to take this risk Shepard."

Shepard nodded finally.

"Until then, I suppose."

A knock on the door caught their attention. Alex smiled slightly. He was here. Ignoring the stare of the Scotsmen, Ferguson pushed himself off the desk and headed to the door.

"I trust you will not protest a commanding officer for this mission," spoke Ferguson as he opened the door and gestured for the man to join them.

With a nod, a man stepped through the doorway, wearing a beret and a funny little unassuming pencil moustache under his nose, his uniform was rumpled and well-worn from the many conflicts he saw - from the battlefields of France to waging a training resistance fighters and waging war in Norway - in his belt was a broadsword forged in Scotland. A broadsword famed for actually being used to kill Jerries up close.

"Lieutenant Lachlan Shepard, I would like to introduce you to your new CO for your assignment," Ferguson introduced, gesturing to the unassuming small man next to him. "Lieutenant Colonel Jack Churchill."

Shepard stood up and saluted. Suddenly an assault deep behind enemy lines looked much better with _'Mad Jack'_ Churchill leading the way.

...

* * *

...

To be honest, it was probably for the best that Rommel told them to find quarters and spend the night in the relative silence of the evening. Hoch and his team barely made it to their rooms before they collapsed in exhaustion.

The English and their allies decided against further bombardment against the city. There were four hundred POW's taken from the assault. The last thing they wanted now was to kill them. They would hold back their attacks until the morning when the transports ships took them to the Stalag's scattered across Europe.

For now, Joachim was happy to get out of his uniform and to have a lukewarm bath. Something he was going to utilize before a sudden knock on the door.

Ignoring his state he turned back and moved to answer the door. He opened it, finding none other than Hanala'Jarva standing there, still in full battle gear, except her goggles, which were pushed back up onto her Stahlhelm. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, her cheeks changed colours. From typical grey to a strange pale purple.

Hoch could only grin.

"Care for some company?"

Hands gripping the doorway, Joachim leaned in, very aware of the quarians discomfort by him shirtless and the way his eyes watched hers travel over him.

"Another evening visit, Captain?" Joachim mused, fighting the smirk on his face and in his voice from showing. "If I didn't know better, I would think something is on your mind."

Snapping her eyes up from off his abdomen, Hanala scowled and turned to leave, only to feel Joachim's hand wrap around her bicep. She stopped moving and turned back to the somewhat taller human, who was now offering her an apologetic smile.

"Alright, alright, come on in." He allowed, letting go of her and stepping out of the doorway. "I'll pretend you're here on official business and not just to check me out while I get undressed."

Shaking her head in clear denial, Hanala limped inside the room, unslinging her rifle and resting it against the door. She took a seat on the nearest chair and begun working her gear off, dropping it haphazardly on the floor. Her Stahlhelm came off, and the ties in her hair vanished, fully revealing her femininity once more.

Hoch averted his eyes as the light fatigues came off, leaving her in a somewhat grimy undershirt. Showing off just how curvy the woman was.

"How are you?" He finally asked as she ran her hand over her wound. Hanala looked up and smiled almost sweetly in his opinion.

Odd...

"Fine, the wound is healing nicely," Hanala informed her ambassador, much more animated then before. "I'll probably take an injection of pain suppressors before I turn in tonight."

Joachim nodded.

"That's good to hear, but I meant how are you doing?" Joachim inquired once again, making Hanala pause. He added, "It's not easy taking your first life. Even if it's not your species I imagine."

The quarian ship captain bowed her head in agreement.

"It's... very difficult," she admitted softly. "But I am at peace with it for now. Maybe when we're back in Vienna, then I will start digesting it. I was never the soldier type. I surprised mother and father when I told them my desire to command a ship."

Hanala stood up and painfully maneuverer herself within arm's length of the only half SS officer. Her hand reached out and tentatively grabbed his left wrist, turning his arm over. Her eyes fell to his tattooed runes on his skin. Her free hand allowed her long digits to gently graze the inked skin.

What is it for?" she breathed, holding her eyes on it. "That Major did not seem impressed with it."

Joachim glanced at the tattoo the unmistakable mark of a man serving in the Waffen-SS.

"Blood group identification in case I'm injured," he explained just as soft as she had been touching him. "Runic for B Negative..."

Joachim trailed off as the strange clumsy looking, but firm fingers touched against his bare skin, They slid past his arms and onto his body, it wasn't long before they found themselves touching a lumpy, discoloured section of skin just under his last rib. Her head tilted as she looked at it curiously.

"And that?" she breathed, finally looking up into his blue eyes. He glanced down and laughed slightly.

"A Pole got lucky during the siege of Warsaw. Put me in the hospital for almost a month." He admitted to her, his voice sheepish as she arched an eyebrow at him.

Hanala chewed her lip; her hands now pressed against his chest with much more daring. They felt strange... harder than a woman's hands should be. Eventually the hand touched against a new patch of rough patch of heavy scar tissue, this time however it was wrapped around his waist. Hanala once again looked up at him, asking for answers with her bright eyes.

"French tank hit my Hanomag... eight dead," Hoch recalled, wincing as the fingers dug deep into his side. "I got lucky to only take some hot steel."

The Captain nodded, she stepped closer to him. She was breathing much shallower as she pushed her hands behind him, grazing against his spine, moving lower until they found yet another scar. Long with craters embedded in the flesh.

"Let me guess," she mused, her voice filled with good humour. "The Russians did this after you fought off a thousand of them?"

Hoch shook his head.

"No," he uttered back. "I got that one from my father."

Hanala blinked. She snapped her near amorous affection away from him as she stared wide eyed up to the human who had so casually about child abuse.

"I was six, almost seven," Joachim admitted his tone neutral as he turned away from the quarian to find his undershirt. "He hit my mother, so I hit him back. A half an hour session with an alder branch and a lit cigarette was his reaction… he was a bastard."

With the shirt back on, Joachim took a seat, leaving Hanala standing and gaping in the disgust.

"Keelah... I'm sorry," she murmured to him careful to keep emotion out of her voice. "To think the way you spoke of him made me assume that you-"

" _Liked him_?" Joachim finished for her, his voice high and incredulous. "He was my Father. I respected his title, yes. He was murdered by the French, of course I was angry about that… but it did not mean I loved him by any stretch of the imagination."

He paused and dropped his attitude.

"Judging from your reaction, I don't suppose corporal punishment is in your parent's vocabulary…" Joachim added, gesturing to the look of permanent disgust on her face.

Hanala shook her head and limped over, taking a seat on the bed next to him.

"No, Father never liked to discipline. Mother, on the other hand..." Hanala trailed off, Joachim watched as she seemed to smile at the thought before adding. "Well you just don't anger my mother. She doesn't need to hit someone in order to make even grown men become submissive."

She paused and looked him over briefly before adding.

"Though... I suppose if Father saw me now, cooperating."

" _Fraternizing._ " Hoch cut in, correcting her. "Let's be honest, Captain. It's fraternizing."

" _Cooperating..._ " Hanala repeated once more in order to shoot down any implications Hoch could make. "He might reconsider his position on child rearing."

Together they sat there in an awkward silence. They had nothing to say to one another. That was fine with Joachim; it gave him time to chastise himself for revealing much too personal information to the woman, whom he had just bloody met less than a month ago. Talking about his bastard of a father and a useless woman like his mother. Stupid of hi-

Hanala leaned in, her lips pressing against the edge of his briefly before pulling back, her head bowed.

"Thank you for saving my life back there... t-thank you for everything, really," she murmured; suddenly shy by her own actions.

Hanala stood up, gathering her things and departed before the human could say a single word, leaving Hoch a very confused man.

Women, it seemed, were unpredictable regardless of where they came from.

…

* * *

…

 **Changes: Clarification on Zorah, rewriting some of the Gerd von Rundstedt and his son scene.**

 **I have been thinking about giving the third story Uplifted: Revolution a new name. It was chosen whe I had three stories in mind. Not the five it became. Let me know if you think I should change it and I'm up for suggestions. Likewise, With Arrival, should I split the story in two?**


	9. Deal with the Desert Fox

**Chapter Nine: Deal with the Desert Fox**

 **...**

How in the _hell_ could she have been so stupid! Why in the hell couldn't humans be slimy, disgusting? Not some strangely quarianlike species.

To make it somehow worse, she had not only kissed an alien, but a primitive alien to top it off, and somehow to make it even _WORSE_ was the horrifying idea that a good part of her had actually liked what she done. That she actually enjoyed the taste of him, despite her rational side screaming at her that this was a very, _VERY_ bad idea.

No... No wait, no that was wrong; she didn't like it! She wasn't some pervert xenophilic woman.

No it was not her fault. It instead was _his_ fault for exposing himself for flagrantly! It was _his_ fault for being charming! It was _his_ fault for respecting her boundaries time after time! It was _his_ fault for allowing her hands to wander, exploring his strong, soft skinned body, barely covering extremely tense muscles that were buried just under skin, the scars littering his body, badges of his bravery, from fighting in this war to standing up to an abusive father.

Captain Hanala'Jarva silently shook her senses back in order. If her parents saw her now, they would undoubtedly disown her right there and then. She was supposed to be a ship captain, someone who commanded respect, not quivering at the sight of some stupid, primitive, five fingered male asari with a huge ego and could make her smile by saying something, anything to her.

 _ **DAMMIT! NOT AGAIN!**_

She stopped her march and turned, briskly she knocked on his door. It took no more than a moment before the door flew open and there stood Hoch, thankfully properly dress. Not that it helped her much. The moment he clued in it was her, this tight frown shaped into that smile of his, that charming smile that made her kiss him in the first place. He was a manipulative Bosh'tet. That was what he was. Someone who spent his entire career learning to trick and deceive others.

Hanala cleared her throat. She would get this over with. She would put a stop to this now before it got out of hand any more than it already had.

"Obersturmbannführer Joachim'Hoch."

The smile Joachim had almost vanished at the usage of his rank and surname. Though it faltered briefly it was back in a heartbeat.

"Captain Jarva," he returned just as formally as she had been. "Is there something I can help you with?"

The quarian nodded her head.

"Yes," she voiced the single syllable reply she had for him.

They stood there in the doorway, as they did last night this time very luckily for her, Joachim was dressed back up into his full gear, leaving her almost nothing to imagine... except for his arms which were revealed by him rolling up his sleeves, Arms that could probably toss her around quite easily, into his bed for instanc-.

"Come on in, back into my room, I suppose," Joachim spoke, breaking the silence filled with some thoughts she swore she would not have.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she murmured as Hoch turned away to find his rifle.

With his assault rifle in hand, Hoch turned back and blinked, the smiling grin frozen on his face as he watched her. Hanala suppressed all her urges to re-enact last night, allowing herself to kiss the man again. He brain froze as she mentally berated herself. He was tricking her again!

 _"Excuse me?"_ Hoch inquired, stone faced as he was trying to figure her out.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hanala repeated, her voice high, her arms still crossed defiantly as she stared at the man standing before her. "I spent last night cleaning the sand and dirt out of my rifle and sleeping. Alone. Whatever you believe happened last night never happened."

"So... you coming to my roo-."

"Never happened," Hanala reminded him, cutting him off completely.

It was Joachim's turn to cross his arms, much less defiantly and much more humoured by her behaviour.

"You feeling me up?" he inquired, looking close to laughing in her face.

She shook her head clearly in denial.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He was smiling now, why did he have to smile. Why couldn't he just take a hint that the path they had unwittingly stumbled onto was a bad path to continue down. How in the hell could they have a relationship? Dammit, why was she even thinking about a relationship with him? Did humans emit some sort of pheromone that made quarian minds easy to suggestions? That was it! Humans were a toxic race to their genetic level!

"You kissing me? I'm fairly certain _that_ happened," he pressed on, his voice controlled in spite of everything.

"I think you may have been drinking. I would not know, of course, I was in my quarters. Asleep," Hanala retorted as quickly as he once more reminded her of what had happened and just how much more she wanted to do it.

"And cleaning your gun…" Hoch tacked on, looking as though he was shaking with unexpressed laughter at her expense. Hanala nodded her head vigorously; Hoch it seemed was getting the point.

"And cleaning my gun…" Hanala agreed, repeating his words almost happily. Now he was getting it!

Hoch nodded his head, still grinning at her, he turned away to collect his helmet from off his table.

"Are you certain?" Hoch politely asked as he pulled his helmet over his head. "I could have sworn that woman with odd hands, bright eyes and pale skin came to my room last night and decided she wanted to experiment with the texture and taste of humans. I was minding my own business when she came in and started groping me."

Hanala groaned, her hand hitting her face.

"Again, as stated beforehand," Hanala reminded him yet again. "That has never happened."

She glanced up and found those pretty blue eyes of his staring at her, a stupid looking smile on his lips... as if he had been undressing her with his eyes.

"Don't _look_ at me like that," she muttered mutinously, it was the only reaction she could give without breaking down and admitting something that didn't happen.

Yes. It didn't happen.

Still the human stared at her as though she was the problem. Was he purposely trying to drive her mad so that she would confess to something that officially hadn't happened between the two of them? Whatever his intentions were, it was certainly working both breaking her resolve and making her infuriated.

"I said, don't give me that _look_!" She once again hissed, this time however, her voice actually cracked. Hanala's hand flew over her mouth as she ducked her flushed face from out of his line of sight.

"Alright then, Captain Jarva," Hoch finally relented. "Herr Rommel is waiting for us."

Fighting back the blush, she looked up to him. He was no longer looking at her like she was something delectable, instead he was impassive, and his seriousness instilled by his training and rank was finally fixed on his expression.

Hanala nodded shyly, following as he stepped forward and out of his room. There was a terse silence between the two of them before Hoch spoke again.

"So... since you weren't in my room, can you explain why I had this lip shaped mark puffed up on my skin this morning?" Hoch casually asked gesturing to the corner of his mouth. "It's irritated and I thought you might know something about it. I'm pretty certain Fuhrmann isn't to blame for it."

Hanala groaned.

...

* * *

...

Gerald Langer always felt Castle Wewelsburg a home away from home. Too bad he rarely was grated much time to spend here.

Between his work and his family, leisure time in the castle, chosen by Heinrich Himmler as the resting spot for all of the SS brass became a rarity to enjoy. As much as he wanted this visit to be one of light relaxation, he was here on business that was vital to the success of the quarian diplomacy process.

The English knew what was happening.

Well, maybe they did not know all the details... the Gestapo cell monitoring the O5 uncovered the plot a day or so ago and had just reported it in. It was a raid to take down Hoch's operations in Vienna. Those blasted son of a bitches, each and every Englishman. How could a nation of tea drinking faggots still be standing? Something was seriously wrong with that.

So here he was, he took the next transport plane and drove through the night to get to Himmler in the morning. If Himmler was even here, Reichsführer Himmler was a busy man, of course.

"I see that you have arrived, Standartenführer Langer," he heard murmured just behind him. "Welcome home."

Langer's blood froze as the nearly mechanical voice belonging to that of Obersturmbannführer Adolf Eichmann greeted him. Langer turned and faced the man. Immaculate as usual; his face looked as though he was forcing himself to smile for his fellow SS officer. He had been sitting in a comfy chair by a roaring fire, a newspaper in his hand. Setting the paper down, Eichmann stood up and offered him a salute, which Langer snapped out in return.

Eichmann may have been a lower rank to him, but he was Heydrich's protégé. In some ways Eichmann was much more frightening then Heydrich. Heydrich was a dreamer, a visionary. Eichmann, according to popular rumour, was nearly machine in his resolve to make Heydrich's dreams a reality. Langer knew more than most. They had a mutual acquaintance through Ernst Kaltenbrunner. Kaltenbrunner _hated_ Eichmann for reasons Langer could completely understand. Betrayal was not something people could forgive easily.

Still, here Eichmann stood, smiling grimly as he gestured to the direction Langer had been heading to.

"Come and join me," Eichmann welcomed, ushering the older man to follow him. "I presume you're here to see Reichsführer Himmler?"

Langer nodded wordlessly. Eichmann accepted the response and pressed on his questioning.

"How is your family?" he asked Langer curiously, almost sounding genuine in the inflection of concern, even.

Langer sighed at the mention of his family. He had been gone for no more than half a day and he already missed them. Not that he would ever admit it. Especially not in front of Eichmann, who was sodium pentothal humanized. Any display of weakness was potential ammunition Eichmann could use against Langer. He wasn't about to let anything slip that could compromise him.

"They're fine, thank you very much," Langer spoke, gathering as much charm as he had left to block his feelings "I would have brought them, but I could not, in good conscientious, pry them away from Vienna."

Eichmann laughed, much more cheerfully then Gerald had expected.

"I cannot blame you, Herr Langer," the junior officer spoke kindly. "Winter in Austria… there are few better places to be. I long to return home there during this season, but the Reichsführer is a busy man, and that is not even factoring in Herry Heydrich of course. "

Langer nodded and smiled back as Eichmann stopped in front of a door pulled it open, gesturing Langer in. The room was bright and big. There were two occupants in the room already. One was shot, thin… mousy looking. The other was almost a giant.

 _"All in all, the conference was a success; everyone was in agreement and will cooperate fully with us. There was some major dissent with Friedrich Kritzinger, but he has fallen into line."_

 _"It may be for the best that we keep an eye on him."_

Eichmann cleared his throat, breaking the conversation up and catching the two men's attention. The smaller man's face broke into a bright smile. The presence of Langer meant one thing to the man as he approached, his hand outstretched. It meant they would be discussing the fascinating new find made by Hoch and him.

"Gerald Langer, I am so glad that you have made it!" the spectacle wearing man greeted, taking Langer's hand and shaking it with a surprising grip to it.

Langer bowed his head respectfully to Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler, his hand dropping to his side.

"I'm grateful you're fine with me gracing your beautiful castle, Reichsführer, thank you for seeing me," Langer complimented, looking around. He did not notice the interrogating look he was getting.

"Wewelsburg is a second home to any involved in special projects," the tallest man of the group spoke, stepping forward to offer his hand as well. "Congratulations on your discovery. Quarians… a species that traveled the stars to make contact with us exclusively, it's all very... fascinating. Clearly they have made the right choice."

Reinhart Heydrich. The Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, _The Blond Beast_ , the _Hangman of Prague_. The Head of Interpol, much to the distress of the nation's standing against them. He had far too many titles to choose from. He was tall, the picture of Aryan strength and an intelligence that was to be underestimated at one's own peril, he sort of a more charismatic Eichmann.

"Thank you, Obergruppenführer Heydrich," Langer returned, shaking the hand offered to him firmly. "Although the discovery is not mine to take all the credit for. Obersturmbannführer Hoch has played a vital role in facilitating good terms with the aliens."

The three men looked at one another. It was understandable why this was so. They might have all served the Fuhrer in the SS, but ultimately, Joachim and Langer belonged in the Waffen-SS, and not the civilian branch, and every passing day the Waffen-SS was blurring the line between them and the Heer.

"Yes… Joachim Hoch… and how fairs his mission to North Africa?" Himmler spoke again, taking a seat on the closest seat, his hands idly straightening out his uniform.

Heydrich's expression grinned feral.

" _North Africa?"_ Heydrich repeated, trying to sound causal about the intentions of the younger man. "I suppose your Hoch will be on the next boat to Italy if the Afrika Korps has their way. I should know, they've done it to my expeditions before."

"I've gotten no word from him, but for now, I must speak to you on a matter of grave importance," Langer returned taking a breath as the occupants of the room stared at him. Slowly, reluctantly he added. "Our operations in Vienna have been compromised."

Reichsführer Himmler's eyes narrowed at him from behind his round framed glasses, the cool casual look on Heydrich's face was quickly eroding away. Eichmann remained distant, standing silently near a wall, a drink in his hands as he absorbed the information.

"The Gestapo has infiltrated the O5 cell in Vienna," Langer spoke again, hoping to keep Heydrich from exploding. "It appears that they have been watching our moves around the museum closer than most other. They've reported to British intelligence. They're preparing for a raid."

"How could you be so _careless_?" Heydrich hissed, looming high over the smaller older man. His hands clenched as though he wanted to wrap his hands around the Standartenführer's neck. A small cough came from the corner, snapping Heydrich's near feral rage away from Langer to focus on his right hand man.

" _What?_ " He growled furiously at his friend. Adolf Eichmann only smirked.

"This is no one's fault Reinhard," Eichmann called from the distance, pushing off against the wall. "Reading the reports, I imagine it would be hard to drag a machine the size of an unterseeboot to a popular museum. The plan was flawed from the beginning. We will simply have to adapt."

Himmler nodded, his hand raised and rested on the furious younger man's shoulder.

"Obersturmbannführer Eichmann is correct, Heydrich," Himmler spoke up before Heydrich had a chance to retort to Eichmann. "This was to be expected. The English are nosy, so we must horde our secrets jealously and with nothing short of death for any spy that tries for our secrets."

Himmler turned back to Langer, who went rigid. Himmler smiled thinly, as though to calm the worried colonel down.

"I'll have element of Das Reich be pulled from France," Himmler decided his voice thoughtful. "They will reinforce the guard. Perhaps even convince the English to abandon this operation."

Langer nodded, it sounded like a plan, and Hoch's past with Das Reich would come in handy. As for the sneering example of German power, Heydrich seemed almost pacified if somewhat angered by the situation that was unfolding beyond his power. He seemed... strange. Almost as though this operation should have been his...

"Herr Reichsführer, I could not help but overhear… but... if I might make an open suggestion?"

Himmler, Heydrich, Eichmann and Langer turned to face the almost growling Viennese infused German behind the group. Lurking there by himself stood giant behemoth of a man named Ernst Kaltenbrunner. He stood several inches taller than Heydrich, a drink in one hand, a cigarette in the other as his scarred up sneering expression was directed the entire group.

Himmler glanced to Heydrich, he remained locked in a glare with the Austrian who ran against him at every opportunity. The Reichsführer did not look like he wanted to give Ernst the time of day, but knew better then to snub the ma. Ernst lurched forward, stopping next to Langer to offer his friend a nod. Langer exhaled slowly, it was good to have Kaltenbrunner at his side. The two of them worked well together in the past and Kaltenbrunner was a friendly enough man when he trusted you, which he rarely did after Heydrich stole Eichmann from his tutelage and Himmler did nothing to stop his pupil's crass act.

"Moving Das Reich to fortify the city would be too blunt, too wasteful and much, _much_ too expected," Kaltenbrunner spoke once more, his voice chilling Langer. "It's exactly what the English see us as, ether as brutes or ignorant. They prepare specifically to fight numbers, not quality."

Himmler seemed to be absorbing what the lawyer by trade was speaking about. Heydrich however turned and walked away, heading to fix his boss a fresh drink.

"We should let them come," Kaltenbrunner pressed on as Himmler accepted his drink from Reinhard. "Allow O5 to exist until the attack is on the doorsteps of the museum. Then we pounce."

"Making an example their commandos and collaborators so close to completing their assignment…" Heydrich spoke up, his back turned he went to make a couple more for Eichmann and Langer.. "It would send a clear warning to English that they will not be able to act with impunity in our territory for any longer."

"We could hold trials for the collaborators." Langer put his two cents in. "The Austrians would probably want to hang the traitors themselves. Warn our people about the English planning on desecrating our monuments to deter us..."

Kaltenbrunner nodded and fell silent, still with that haunting smile for the group, his eyes squared directly on his former student, Eichmann who withered in the face of his former mentor. Amused by the reaction, Langer accepted a drink from _'The Hangman of Prague'_ and with that Himmler ushered his subordinates to join him on the fine furniture surrounding a beautiful oak coffee table.

"So let them come, and set a trap." Himmler concluded, nearly smiling himself as he sipped his drink. "I like it, Kaltenbrunner... It's just what we need."

As he sat, Ernst Kaltenbrunner did his best not to look too pleased with himself.

"We'll need someone to organize the trap." Himmler spoke again as Langer and Eichmann settled around him comfortably. "We'll need someone... unconventional to lead the defense, someone who'll throw the English off."

Kaltenbrunner smirked slightly, looking at his glass as he swirled the contents of his drink.

"Otto Skorzeny…"

Himmler, Eichmann and Langer looked up to Kaltenbrunner as he approached. Kaltenbrunner, however, kept his eyes ahead, staring off like he was lost in his own thoughts.

"I beg your pardon?" Himmler asked, somewhat intrigued looking by the suggestion made by his second-in-command.

"Untersturmführer Otto Skorzeny... I have heard of him, in fact I reached out to him not long ago," Heydrich murmured, joining them on the furniture. "He's on duty in France right now. I must admit I do not care much for your ways, Herr Kaltenbrunner, but you did well recruiting him… from my interactions, he is indeed a man who can get things done."

Kaltenbrunner nodded approvingly.

"Yes… before that foolish idiot, Rundstedt ordered a general retreat Skorzeny received commands from the Fuhrer to flood Moscow," Kaltenbrunner informed the group. "He was days from doing it before the Wehrmacht retreated like cowards, leaving Das Reich to clean up the mess."

Himmler rubbed his chin, as though contemplating the candidate set forth, finally he leaned back his eyes scanning each of the men surrounding him. He locked eyes on the nearly maniacal look Kaltenbrunner had.

"If they send wolves to fight us, we had best have a hunter to exterminate them," Himmler addressed them. "Make the call, Kaltenbrunner, and keep me informed."

Kaltenbrunner nodded, and with that, the men clinked their glasses, a wordless toast to the Führer, the Fatherland, the Aryan race and finally to the soon-to-be quarian allies who would give them final victory over the Bolshevik hordes and the Jewish controlled west.

...

* * *

...

 _"Admiral, we've entered the system. Four hours until we reach Earth. Admiral Jarva called in; the fleet will arrive in the week. He and the rest of the Admiralty Board will rendezvous with us in two days."_

Admiral Jalina'Calis vas Kareon nodded her head fragilely to her Captain. Each of her eighty nine years of life very present with her as her bones ached. She was the last of the original Admiralty Board. A pariah of the original five, her plans involved less combat and more bidding their time. This plan, uplifting a species was an idea she endorsed and carried from a young man who now sat on the Admiralty Board.

Ten years ago, the project bloomed, and it came in the form of a species known as humans.

For a year, she spent it studying them, watching as they continued their lives, ignorant to the many eyes watching their every move, listening to their every important conversation. She watched as a starving and sick nation elected a leader and in less than six years, transformed it into an emerging superpower, making leaps and bounds beyond anyone's expectation. She watched, with some sense of pride as this little nation defied the world and took what belong to them.

Many privy to the discovery of humans were much less enthusiastic about this nation thery watched with interest. They felt it was too volatile, too totalitarian, and much too militaristic; but those who stood against this nation seemed to always be the same people who were content with allowing their people to die in exile, allow them to become a galactic joke, a warning about progress and a call to remain stagnant. They could not be allowed to have a say in the struggle for survival.

Thankfully however, those voices dissenting the uplifting were quickly silenced as one day, they watched this small nation suddenly and completely conquer almost their entire continent in a matter of months with a military efficiency of that of the turians.

Sure... they were rough around the edges, and would admittedly need a huge redirection in their policies, but with time, it was almost for certain that this people could be brought forth to the galaxy as a well-adjusted race. Time and nurturing from the future leadership of the quarian people could help keep the humans from turning into the krogans.

But... she would not get to see this.

She was at her dying days. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time now, yet only Jalina seemed to be at peace with the inevitable death ravaging her body by the second, demanding that she join the ancestors and friends who fell before her. Her husband, her children who died in the various attacks on geth controlled Rannoch and during the genocide. She could hear them all, call for her to join them at long last.

Yes... she was ready to heed their calls soon.

Soon… but not yet.

Jalina had one final goal before she would allow her death to come to her. She had to know that her people had taken their first steps towards the long march back to Rannoch.

"Very good, Captain," she murmured, smiling faintly to the concerned looking young woman who was sitting in front of her... "Is... Is there any transmissions from Captain Hanala'Jarva?"

The Captain of the Kareon shook her head.

"None, ma'am... I'm sure they've survived. Hanala Jarva isn't much different than her father," she stated. She paused, and in a much less formal tone, added. "I think you should rest, Admiral. Save your strength for first contact..."

Touched by the concern, Jalina only looked up to her and smiled, her hand reaching out across to where she sat.

"I'm old, Captain Haleos, not invalid." The Admiral informed the captain kindly. "I have plenty of time to rest when I've passed on."

Captain Daer'Haleos flinched, even the merest mention of death touching a nerve. Jalina stood unsteadily up

"For now... I need to remain alert," the old quarian spoke as she was helped up from her seat. "The first steps to our plan are crucial. If we fail with these humans... everything I worked for will be for nothing."

She would not get to see Rannoch again... but if she could help her people have a new home on this beautiful garden world known simply as earth. No longer enslaved to their ships... then it would be worth never seeing the home world again.

...

* * *

...

This was madness. Sheer madness!

He would have surely thought he was hallucinating if he was a less rational minded man. No, standing in front of him and briefing him on their intentions was indeed an alien, quarian, a military officer no less. A fascinating thought Rommel would push aside until later.

For now, he had to swallow this audacious plan the quarian seemed to have in mind. Did she even comprehend what they were asking? Did Hoch, who was clearly a man who knew exactly what they were about to risk, really think that a surgical infiltration was preferable now then waiting several months when he could clear the way during his renewed offensive?

Once more... he would push away the fact that he was speaking to aliens and focus on what they said instead. He could debate what this all meant once he found some time.

"So the objective is to break through the lines set up, traverse through over one hundred and fifty kilometers in to Commonwealth held territory, have zero fighter support, dodge an entire army made up of conventional and unconventional forces... so that you could mine for a rare substance in order to contact her fleet so that an alliance can be made." Rommel managed to summarize.

Instead of looking at him like he had grown a second head, the SS officer sitting before him actually nodded. Rommel huffed shortly. One could not say he wasn't up for a good challenge and this one was certainly that. There were over three hundred thousand men itching to hit Tripoli, supported by a top tier air force and a commendable tank force... and they expected to infiltrate that deep in contested land?

It was an interesting turn of events to top of this newfound knowledge; and if there was one thing he liked, it was the opportunity of a challenge

"It will be difficult, but certainly not impossible," Rommel said thoughtfully. "The Eighth Army is stretched thin across Libya, You could break out, might even be able to make a break to your survey sight even without a scratch."

"But?" the officer named Hoch asked.

Rommel leaned against his desk.

"But, while the 8th Army is focused on keeping my men trapped, the English 7th Armoured Division's sole job is to roam the deserts and kill any man in Afrika Korps uniform," Rommel sighed. "It doesn't help that they're supported by elements of the SAS."

"Forgive my ignorance, but... SAS?" The female alien captain inquired, the initials rolling of her tongue sounded very foreign.

Rommel nodded gravely.

"Special Air Services... Imagine your attaché here, except they don't need pretty uniforms, or political positions," Rommel explained to the woman. From the corner of his eye he could see anger develop in the young Obersturmbannführer's expression, especially when he added, "Their only focus is to give any German they see a very bad day."

He paused, leaned into his seat and smirked slightly

"I would sell my soul to have a unit like them under my command... inventive, capable of long range operation. They are quite possibly the cleverest bastards I've ever seen thrown against me," he spoke to himself he looked up and added. "I requested the Brandenburger Special Action units join me here, but to no avail…"

Rommel, suddenly envious of the enemy Special Forces unit, leaned back into his seat, eying the group very wearily.

"Well..." he exhaled, his hands lapping together. "I can't see how I can help you much more then open the front gate and send you out."

The male alien standing on the other side of Hoch actually snorted to him derisively.

 _"Isn't it obvious what we need?"_

Rommel blinked at the condescending attitude. Had this alien been human, he would have undoubtedly sent him out in a scout car to cross into the English lines.

"You want me to distract the English for you. Well, _alien_ , a distraction will cost me panzers, crews and petrol. None of which are abundant at the moment," Rommel snapped at the second quarian before sitting back down behind his desk.

It was silent. He watched idly as both Hoch and the alien known as Hanala both glared at the alien male. He turned back his attention to the reports filed to him about yesterday's attack.

"What if I could provide an incentive?"

Rommel glanced up, it had been the woman who spoke, she stepped forward in front of the SS officer and the disrespectful little shit. It was her turn to convince him.

"I don't like bribes."

The alien shook her head.

"Not a bribe, an investment... a deal, Herr Generaloberst." She spoke politely, even using his proper title despite having no affiliation to German culture. "I am not able to provide you panzers or crews, but I can provide you the locations of untapped oil reserves in this very region."

The General's mask broke. _Oil_? Here in these sands? How could it be? How could she even know?

Suddenly the quarians arm glowed neon blue as a map suddenly opened up before him. It was that of Italian Libya, Red dots combing across the map. Rommel rubbed his chin, this was... much too big to simply overlook...

"How much are we talking about?" He inquired his mask of calm returning as his voice stayed neutral.

"Enough that you will never need to worry about fossil fuel allocation ever again," Captain Jarva informed him, the device flashing back to nothingness as she dropped her arm. She glanced to Hoch, who stepped forward.

"Your drive to Persia can be completed without taking risks for the sake of fuel," Hoch said, stroking Rommel's ego.

Rommel laughed, a hand rubbing his forehead as he remained fascinated by where the dots on the device had been.

"Forget Persia," Rommel boasted finally. "If the Führer would provide me with another army, I could reach India."

He chuckled and once more sighed.

"Regardless this is Italian domain," The Generaloberst pressed on, once again more to himself then to the others. "I will need to consult with them to make an investment, so long as they provide me with whatever fuel I need, whenever I need it."

With his concerns for fuel potentially solved so he could go back to destroying the English where they stood, Rommel looked up to the quarian who was staring at him patiently, awaiting an answer from him. The general stood up a slight smile on his face as he offered his hand to the alien.

"Well now quarian, you've made yourself a deal," he spoke curtly, shaking her hand. "I can feint an offensive. I have wounded up the English so terribly, one move by me and they panic to suppress it."

Standing up, he ushered the group to follow him as together they planned out their feint.

...

* * *

...

"I can't believe Rommel was willing to give you and your tank to me."

Wiping the grim off his hands as he helped Dieter Hertzer by passing up ten large petrol canisters inside the Tiger, Hoch could not believe he would be riding through the desert on this monstrosity… this crime against nature. The Tiger had terrible fuel efficiency. One hundred and fifty miles was just beyond their operational range, so they had to improvise. They improvised by siphoning petrol from Italian cargo trucks.

"I don't think Rommel is a particular fan of the Tiger. He spent an hour inspecting the tanks, kept muttering about how wasteful this beast is," Hertzer replied as he climbed from out of his tank, closing the hatch behind him. "He said he could have bought about ten .88 stationary guns for the price of one of these and saved on fuel cost."

Hertzer sighed and he jumped off the side of the tank, one hand slicking through sweat stained blond hair the other hand patting his Tiger like it was a pet.

"Regardless of what the Commandant thinks, she's a real beauty," Hertzer spoke with a great sense of pride. " _Sigrid_ took fucking thirteen _direct_ hits, didn't even crack the armour!"

Hoch raised his eyebrow as he watched Hertzer lean forward to kiss the gun mantlet as though it were a woman.

" _Sigrid_?" Hoch repeated.

Hertzer smiled crookedly, like he was a man possessed. Hoch rolled his eyes and turned, finding Hanala limping slightly towards him, a barrel marked as water in her hands. As soon as she approached, he stepped forward, offering to help her. It was an offer that she denied as she dragged the barrel to the Tiger and hefted it up onto the back of the heavy tank.

"We know what in the hell most of your team is comprised of, we were there, remember? As soon as we hit the open desert, dump your stupid disguises. You look ridiculous!" Hertzer leered, his eyes narrowing on Hanala as she climbed onto his Panzer.

As Hanala finished bolting the water drum onto the back of the tank, she turned back to the Tank Commander, who was now properly fitted with a communication device.

"Any why is that? Is it because we're not human?" Hanala asked, her arms crossed as she took a seat on the semi cool barrel.

Hertzer shook his head.

"No, it's because you're a _woman_ ," Dieter admitted, not paying mind to the tense body language in both Hoch and Hanala "Personally I think its bad luck, having a woman on board my tank. I had a friend in France show off his Panzer II to a French woman outside Arras. Panzer took a petrol bomb. We could hear the two of them screaming from a kilometre away!"

Laughing as he recalled what happened to his friend, Hertzer wandered away to fine the rest of his crew, leaving Hanala and Hoch in an awkward silence as Hanala tried her best to suppress the anger that Joachim could see growing by each passing second.

"Is everyone in your nation this intolerant to woman?" Hanala called out as she stood up.

Hoch didn't look at her. He doubted she would like his answer in the slightest.

"I do not think you deserve an honest answer," he muttered back to her. "At least not until you tell me again what really happened last night..."

Hoch trailed off inwardly grinning as he watched Hanala simply glare at him like he had spoken treason. At least that was what she did at first. Jumping off the Panzer, she stalked towards him, her head titled as she was inches from him. Joachim could faintly here her nose inhale, as though taking in his scent before she stepped back, her eyes hooded.

Without a warning, she reached out and shoved him hard in the chest.

"If you want me to ever not deny what may or may not have happened between us, I suggest you mind your words and don't apply your ideological stance on me in the future," Hanala issued her warning to him, watching him as she rubbed his chest.

Smirking at his shocked expression Hanala turned away to re-join the rest of the team who were doing an ammunition check. Watching her, he could swear there was a sway in her step, an extra roll in her hip.

 _Good God in heaven..._

 _"Obersturmbannführer Hoch, may I have a word?"_

Hoch turned to the commanding voice and found that Rommel was standing there, a strange look on his face. Hoch's eyes nearly widened. The Desert Fox was watching the interaction between Hanala and him. He was ready to make several excuses, but was stopped by the general, who held his hand up, keeping him silent.

"A fascinating development to be sure," he finally breathed a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I won't breathe a word. I don't imagine the SS would look kindly on you _commingling_ with the aliens."

Deciding that Rommel would not take Reichsführer Himmler's Aryan decree for the quarians very well, Hoch decided to simply nod instead and give the General his small victory. Rommel's gloved hand reached into his pocket, pulling a small slip of paper out and placed it into Hoch's hands.

It was a radio channel.

"Contact these numbers should a need arise." Rommel informed the SS officer briskly. "Kesselring owes me a few favours. I'll have him provide what air support that can be managed."

 _Air support_? This operation was looking better already.

"Thank you Herr General." Hoch nearly gushed, smiling to the charismatic Desert Fox. His hand snapped high up into the air into a salute. It was a salute that was simply stared at by the elder General.

Rommel huffed a small laugh and shook his head.

"No, Herr Hoch. I should think a proper Wehrmacht salute was in order," Rommel said finally. "I think that you have earned it."

Blinking at the gesture of good will displayed by the Desert Fox himself, Hoch dropped his hand and pressed it against the side of his head. Rommel returned it and turned away, heading back to his command and leaving Hoch feeling much more welcomed then he had been not a day ago.

...

* * *

...

For the past two hour, German and Italian artillery was firing in every possible direction

Rommel's faux attack was made mostly up of Italian and captured English tanks, supported by a group of heavier short barreled Panzer IV's.

As for Hoch and the rest of his team, they were all loaded onto the back of Hauptmann's tiger. Fuhrmann was manning the MG-34, Galas'Yoad was borrowing Fuhrmann's MG-42 and set it up facing the rear, protecting them from any and all English fire.

Xen was inside the tank, He was in charge of navigation. He would help the crew of the Tiger, all of whom very nervous at the prospect of being guided by an alien with a possible exception to Hertzer, who may have been as weary as the rest of the tankers, but was most likely to kill Xen in a heartbeat.

Hoch patted, Hanala on the shoulder. He could feel her quivering. Whether it was the chilly North African night or the fear of new fighting, Hoch could not place. Hanala turned back to him.

"Keep your head low," he ordered. "If we start taking serious fire, we jump off and run alongside the Tiger."

Hanala nodded back, her assault rifle readied.

Before she could reply, an anti-tank shell flew over their heads. With that close range shot, the entire probing mission opened fire on everything it could find which was limited. The flashes of barrels, the explosions of anti-tank guns, tanks, and trenches filled with infantry.

A Fiat M13/40 exploded in front of them. The screams of the crew dying as the shells exploded inside their cache. Hock suppressed a shudder as he fired on a trench filed with Tommy's, Hanala at his side and doing the exact same as he did. The Tiger swerved, moving around the right flank of the burning Italian tank, running clear over the trench and crushing soldiers underneath the tracks.

As the Tiger cut away from the unit and into the rocky desert, Hoch found him and his team suddenly no longer safe, still everyone continued to fire. Fuhrmann dropped three men holding what looked like anti-tank rifles. Galas laid down a suppressing fire as they retreated. Hoch and Hanala step the flanks safe from infantry and as for Hertzer, Hertzer blew any bastard up who got in the way of his tank and the open expanse of the desert.

Hitting what looked like a Matilda before it could swing its barrel around, the Tiger drove through the billowing, oily smoke from the burning English tank and fled into the dark night.

…

* * *

…

 **Changes: Major changes this chapter to the Langer scene. Originally Eichmann introduced Skorzeny. I decided to instead have Kaltenbrunner make his first appearance. It was the original plan back in Uplifted to do this, but I did not want to introduce a new historical character so soon, and honestly I was still doing research on him.**

 **Hoch was far too progressive in this chapter about women. Later incantations had him revert back to a contemporary opinion on women. Again, like in Private words, I was worried about offending people in the opening chapters. By later stories I was much more comfortable about it, so I have altered this section in this chapter to fit Hoch better.**

 **There is some concern that this is going to take forever and I cannot tell what is real and what is bait anymore. So I will just say that I'm banging pretty past through the corrections. It's not going to take _years._ **


	10. Hard Revelation

**Chapter Ten: Hard Revelation**

...

 _ **"NO GOOD, FUCKING, COCKSUCKING, PIECE OF SHIT! TURN OVER GODDAMN YOU!"**_

Galas'Yoad could not help but roll his eyes at the tank commander known as Hertzer and turned back to the engine, his omni-tool alive as he scanned the Tigers relatively massive engine. They had broken down a few hours ago, leaving the team trapped seventy odd kilometers from the target and waiting on the tank crew to get them moving once again.

It was clear to that Hertzer and his crew were too proud to ask anyone for help until about an hour ago when Joachim'Hoch lost his temper and assigned Galas to help inspect the tank for any sort of maintenance issue causing the delay. It gave Galas a chance to see just how flawed this machine had been. Its track system was far too complex for its own good. The tank was much too heavy for serious cross desert traversing. It would be almost too heavy for urban fighting. It was an open field tank.

While there were problems, he had to admit it a neat looking machine. Powerful and a first step towards a main battle tank Quarians had long before the exile. But for now, it was in serious need of a redesign.

"Could you possibly get any angrier?" Yoad inquired, attempting to keep the humour from bubbling up to taunt the man with.

"Yes I could!"Hertzer snapped back at him. "Sigrid is supposed to perfect. This isn't right at all!"

"Well... It appears that the engine is being overworked." The pilot spoke as he closed the engine shield. "You've been pushing the tank far too; too much tank, not enough engines."

The panzer commander blinked at the quarian and suddenly smiled.

"You know... you don't exactly have much of a role in your little group. The muscle role seems to be filled by that big brute over there," Hertzer spoke, gesturing to Fuhrmann as he sat by the Tiger, his MG-42 in pieces and in the middle of being cleaned. "My tank needs a fifth member. What will it take to recruit you? I'm always in need of a decent engineer."

Galas didn't have the heart to tell Hertzer that it was rudimentary education for post elementary school education for quarian teenagers. Not quite the Mass driver engineering that he had not a clue about. Still... it felt good that it was appreciated. The human known as Hertzer dropped his hand onto Galas' shoulder.

"Come along, boy. Let's go get a drink," Hertzer suggested. To which Galas shook his head.

"I can't consume anything you have to drink," the quarian informed Hertzer.

"Alright then," Hertzer said, turning away and looking to Fuhrmann as he added. "Fuhrmann! I have a couple of bottles of brandy I stole from some Italian, go get them out of Sigrid. We will drink, yeah?"

Fuhrmann looked up from his dissembled machine gun and stood up and climbed onto the tank, leaving Hertzer and Yoad by themselves. Sighing, Hertzer slumped into the sand, his eyes glancing off. A strange look of amusement was suddenly written on his face.

"They seem... _close_ …" he finally spoke.

Galas raised his brow at the remark.

"What do you mean?"

He pointed off to something. Galas followed his gesture and found that Hertzer had been looking at Joachim'Hoch and Captain Hanala'Jarva. Both of them were studying a map produced by her omni-tool.

"Your captain is always hanging off Hoch," Hertzer spoke as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"They're officers, they have to coordinate... right?" Galas reminded him, unable to keep his eyes off the odd sight.

Hertzer only smirked as he gestured to the two of them. Together they watched as Joachim'Hoch's hand grazed against Hanala's back as they both read the readings from the omni-tool. Hanala'Jarva actually squirmed in place, but she did not move from his touch. The lack of response to him and then her pulling off his field cap to wear actually made the tank commander grin as he looked between them and then finally to Galas' shocked expression.

"For clarification, officers in the Heer don't touch each other quite like that," Hertzer grinned as Hanala shifted slightly closer to the man next to her. "I cannot say I'm too sure about the Waffen-SS though...I once heard half their ranks were _faggots_ in denial."

Galas shook his head, disgusted by the intolerance as his translator slanged the slang into the word homosexual.

"I'm going to go... Find a bathroom or something…" he muttered, earning a nod from Hertzer.

He left, trying to forget what he had seen between the quarian and human, both of whom much higher ranks than he was. He could not quite say that he thought it was disgusting... wrong even about the way they seemed to have been flirting, toying with the idea of exploring whatever that they were doing. They had been on this planet for no more than twenty days... it just seemed far too... rushed.

Maybe it would be better once quariankind stopped being an all powerful force in the eyes of huma-

Galas hissed and gave a violent scream.

Pain shot through his body and dropped him into the dirt, making him lose control of his breathing. He landed on his back, screaming again in an agony he had never felt before. Above him was an explosive exchange of gunfire. His hand touched against his torn open chest.

He moaned and tried to move. He couldn't. As he struggled to breathe, his chest started spitting blood out. He rolled his head to one side and was faintly aware that his people were completely caught off guard. Only one or two of them had their weapons readied. He could make out Fuhrmann exploding from the tank, his hands wrapped around the turret gun but like Fuhrmann, he too was shot several times, slumping inside the tank once again.

Hoch and Jarva found their sidearm's both of them firing but Captain Jarva was screaming was to him in a desperate act to get the pilot's attention.

Galas looked away from his people and instead towards the attackers. They rushed in with roofless trucks and grimy uniforms, all of them so alien looking, coated in facial hair and sneers as they rushed in and overwhelmed the barely prepared team. The heavy gun on one of the vehicles forced the group of Germans and quarians to scatter and hide.

 _"DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"_ his translator interpreted. _"No harm will come to you if you drop your weapons and give up! You have fifteen seconds to comply!"_

Galas groaned and rolled over. He would survive this. He would get out of this alive...

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

In the end, they surrendered as the English soldiers had demanded.

The last of the weapons were tossed into sand in the direction of the English. Most of the English remained locked in place. Standing their ground, their rifles and machine guns raised at the surrendered Germans and quarians. Two of them however approached, one armed, the other more casual and higher ranked. He was a lieutenant by the looks of it, maybe a captain.

Hoch couldn't believe this. They had a Panzer they were leaning against, a mounted MG-34 no more than a few meters away. He glanced to Hanala who held her gloved hands over her head, her expression blank. Of course, being captured wasn't new to her of course. No more than twenty days ago; he had done the same thing to her.

Though her expression was empty, her eyes remained on the fallen Galas'Yoad and with concern and fear for his man flashed out of the barrier she hid behind.

A cough and a sudden attempt to belly crawl came from Yoad, startling Hanala. Ignoring her own situation and Hoch's attempt to keep her in place, she started towards him. Bullets fired by the officer approaching hit the sand in front of hert, forcing her back in place. The man approaching the group only glanced at Yoad once.

As though Yoad had been a minor pest, he raised his sten gun aimed at the quarian casually and fired a short burst into his back

And just like that, Galas'Yoad was dead.

Hanala nearly screamed. Joachim reached back and wrapped his hand around her mouth to prevent a stream of her first lanague being blurted out. The Commandos didn't know about her yet. The last thing they needed to find out was Hanala's alien language. Hanala's legs collapsed under her, and Hoch followed after her, keeping her in place and screaming silently into his hand.

He watched Hanala's eyes mist before he turned back and found the Commando who shot Galas dead had closed the gap on him. His sten gun slammed into the side of Joachim's head, knocking him down on the ground. Dazed he tried to sit up but failed to get to his feet.

He felt a hand wrap around the front of his uniform, dragging the scatterbrained Obersturmbannführer from off the ground and back onto his feet. There was an expression of malice splashed over the grin the Englishman wore

His eyes tried to focus, they searched his attack. There was nothing extraordinary about him, other than the look of disgust written on him. His eyes dropped as he rocked back and forth in place. He noticed a sparkle, a five pointed star...

" _Juden_..." Hoch mumbled, still dazed, his head throbbing.

The man before Joachim's eyes hardened

"That's right, you stupid Nazi _fuck._ A Polish Jew," the commando sneered, letting go of Hoch's collar. Hoch fell to his knees and the Jew turned back to face his friends.

"You know, sir...I bet he is probably the same son of a bitch who killed my brother in '39," the commando said to his approaching officer.

A punch to the gut winded Hoch and dropped the officer back into the sand and dirt. Wheezing as he felt Hanala's hands clutch his back, Hoch chuckled and looked up, a bloodied grin planted on his face for the son of a bitch to take in. His senses came back to him, his dizziness was gone.

"Probably…" the German baited to the Polish national, switching to English which was an act that startled several of the Englishmen. "I killed plenty of Poles. It was almost embarrassing to do that… a nation of backward idiots... just like your brother. I imagine he was one of those _idiots_ that tried to fight tanks on his hors-"

The commando interrogator nearly screamed as he hit Hoch over and over again. Finally he had enough. He pulled his pistol out of his holster and pressed it just under his chin. He could feel Hanala grabbing his shoulder as though she could save him. At this point, Hoch just stopped caring.

"Go ahead _Pole_... Go right on, _Jew,_ " Hoch slurred his eyes half open as he stared at the Webley pistol barrel pressed against his forehead. "Do it, _shoot_ me. Show me how _righteous_ you are..."

Hoch closed his eyes and simply waited.

 _ **"Kaplan!"**_

The interrogator turned away from his target and back on his approaching Captain. He looked ashen faced and was occasionally glancing back to Galas'Yoad's husk. Hoch knew exactly what he had found.

"Kaplan, the one behind that Nazi bastard, grab him and bring him here," the Englishman breathed unsteadily. "Something's not right with him."

Kaplan stared at Hoch for a moment longer before hiding his pistol once more his attention turning to Hanala, her goggles still wrapped around her eyes. Kaplan reached out and grabbed her by the forearm and pulled her towards his Captain, who stared on her curiously.

The Captain removed the gloves, revealing her hands, her goggles were next, her bright eyes made the commando leader step back, obviously shocked.

"What in the hell are you?" he swore lowly.

Kaplan tugged off Hanala's hat, allowing her long hair hidden to fall down, touching her shoulders. The man raised his brow in disbelief.

"A woman..." Kaplan wondered, unmoved by her being an alien, but rather by her gender being out in the battlefield.

Hanala didn't reply. How could she? Instead she struggled against him, against his grip. Joachim, bloodied and woozy from the assault on him lost his self-control and stood up. He couldn't let this happen! The commando interrogator looked away from Hanala and turned his attention back to his first victim.

"If you know what's best for you and this... thing, then you won't take a single step," the man threatened in a low hiss at Hoch. "Now... What in the hell are you?"

Hanala didn't reply to the question demanded by the man manhandling her; the same man who killed one of her last crewmen. No, instead she reared her head and head butted him. The sound of his nose breaking could be heard from both sides. The man let go of Hanala as he clutched his nose.

She started to run from them; at the sight of her, Joachim nearly lost his own self-control. She fell to Galas'Yoad's side, attempting to see if the dead man could be saved. Before she had the chance to touch him, the interrogator grabbed her by her hair and yanked her back up towards him, one hand wrapping around her throat.

"I was hoping you would do something like that..." he admitted in a low growl to the woman.

Like Joachim before her, Hanala found herself being another victim to the rage of the Polish interrogator.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

Christ up in the kingdom. He didn't want to die now.

Heinrich Fuhrmann half opened his eyes. There were only two things he could feel at the moment: the pounding in his chest and the wounds that seared through every nerve in his body. The pain was good, it meant that he was alive and very capable of survival if he tried hard enough.

As for the others, he needed to help them, but how? He was wounded; they were trapped by the commando force... wounded, maybe even dead. Oh God in heaven. What did they deserve to earn this fate?

He looked around the interior of the Tiger, moaning softly as his hand fell over his wound. Muffled by the steel that separated him from the outside, he could hear the screams in that odd English language.

Clanging against the steel plates of the Tiger caught Fuhrmann's attention. The hinge above his head opened. Fuhrmann closed his eyes and feigned death as a stocky looking commando climbed into the tank. His shallow breathing ceased as he felt a pistol barrel touch against his skin, as though the man was inspecting him.

He stood up and popped his head out of the hatch.

"One dead inside, sah!" the wiry Englishman shouted out to her fellows. "Try to get one of the tankers to talk about this beast!"

The soldier re-entered the tank and turned away from what he believed was a dead Fuhrmann and started fiddling with the Tiger controls. Fuhrmann opened his eyes, his hand unsheathing his bayonet, moving as slo as he could as to not draw attention to himself. He needed to be quick and as quiet as he could about this.

"Jesus..." the man breathed in dismay as he inspected the vehicle. "Why do the Jerries always get the neat tanks-"

The commando didn't get to finish the sentence.

As quick as he could move himself, Fuhrmann sat up. Ignoring his physical agony, his arm reached out, grabbing the Englishman by his throat. He didn't even blink as he shoved his bayonet into the commando's back, stabbing him again as deep as he could and twisted the blade until no life was left in the man. The dead man collapsed on him and his wounds, nearly making Fuhrmann cry out as he tried to roll the bleeding body off him.

Panting and swearing to himself violently, He glanced to his side and noticed two objects that made his mind work in overdrive. Two of Hertzer's confiscated bottles of spirits. One empty the other half filled with amber liquid.

Heinrich pulled himself up, groaning as his hand grabbed the bottles and unscrewed the one that still would get him drunk. He took a deep swig, managing to force the contents in the bottle down in an effort to numb the searing pain.

He coughed and wheezed as he dropped the now empty bottle beside him. Clutching his side, He glanced up and noticed the gas canisters stored near the ammunition storage. Though his mind was foggy from the wounds and the alcohol flowing through his vein, he knew exactly what he was going to do.

Fuhrmann tugged out his bloodied bayonet and carefully cut off one of his sleeves.

He was going to firebomb those bastards.

 **...**

* * *

...

 _"One dead inside, sah! Try to get one of the tankers to talk about this beast!"_

 _Fuhrmann._

Joachim lowered his head. Another was dead because they were stupid enough to lounge about with repairs. Heinrich didn't deserve to pay for the mistakes made by him.

The interrogator finished working Hanala over, he grabbed her and tossed her back against his first victim. She was battered bad, her nose and mouth was bleeding. Her face covered in fist marks. She crawled into him as though he was a protective cocoon of sorts, her arms wrapped around his neck. She was shaking badly, a mixture of adrenaline and fear flowing through her veins.

The interrogator turned away from the two messes he created. He pointed to Hertzer.

"You're next..." the Pole announced to Hertzer, switching back to German.

Glancing to Joachim and the quivering quarian woman, Hertzer stood up from where his men were huddled and stepped in front of them. His expression remained defiant as he glared at the Pole.

"If you want answers, I dare you to get them," Hertzer challenged the commando with an arrogance that made the Pole blink. "If she broke your nose; I'll break your fucking face!"

Before the interrogator could make good on his threat, the hatch of the Tiger flew open, banging against the top of the turret. Everyone, from Hoch to the Commandos, looked and watched as Heinrich Fuhrmann stood upright, shot up badly, he wore a look of uncharacteristic rage splashed across his face directed to the English.

The look, though filled with hate, was not what made the English pause. It was the lit Molotov cocktail in his hand.

He threw the improvised weapon hard.

The bottle smashed and exploded on the leader of the Commando's, engulfing him in petrol fuelled flames that engulfed both him and the ground he stood on. The man screamed like an animal writhing in agony as he stumbled out of the fire, his flesh burning off his cooked muscles.

Another Molotov cocktail was thrown higher than the first. The improvised explosive hitting the manned machine gun on the American built ' _jeep'_ the vehicle was engulfed in flames,

This time the English weren't surprised. They raised their weapons to stop Fuhrmann, who ducked briefly before coming back up, swivelling around the turret mounted MG-34 and tearing through each and every commando that still stood. They fell like puppets with their strings cut; soaking Hoch, Hanala, the interrogator and the rest of the team in English blood.

The interrogator's eyes was wide, his pistol was once again pulled out and snapped towards Hoch. Before anyone could comprehend what had happened, Hanala lashed out, placing herself between Hoch and the interrogator. Her arm swung out, her ceremonial blade half decapitated the Englishman where he stood.

Hanala wasn't done, not by the long shot. Hoch sat there and watched the captain actually growl, jumping onto of the dead but still twitching man, her knife plummeting into the fresh corpse over and over and over again. She was still screaming at the top of her lungs in her language.

Hoch grabbed Hanala around her waist, pulling the still screaming woman coated in English blood her knife high above her head from off the dead body and onto his lap.

"He's _dead_ , Hanala. It's _over_." He soothed the woman still filled with nothing short of unquenchable rage for everything that had happened to them, to Fuhrmann, to Galas. Still she looked as though she was in the middle of a blood haze. He saw it before among his own men back in Russia. The bitter cold, the deplorable conditions and the endless waves of Russians thrown at them made some of the sanest men he knew break, some even cry.

He looked back to the Tiger. Fuhrmann had crawled out of the Panzer and fell down the side hitting the dirt. He screamed, his hand clutching his wounds which were pulled immediately off by Martus'Xen who appeared to have some medical training. He was quickly joined by the mostly unharmed scar faced radio operator Tiger crewman.

"We got a runner!"

Hoch turned from Hanala and to the call made by Hertzer. Indeed one of them survived. He was unarmed and frantic as he zigzagged back to one of the vehicles that they came in. Scooping the closest weapon he could find, an English Enfield from off one of the commando's he fell to one knee and placed the retreating commando in his iron sights.

Stilling running, the commando turned back. His eyes wide as he noticed the rifle aimed at him. Or so Joachim had assumed until Hanala charged into his line of sight, bolting like an enraged cheetah at the panicked SAS trooper who continued to run for his life. In her hand was still that bloodied blade of hers. It was low as she swooped across the desert, hunched over and running at the man.

The commando reached the truck; he reached in and grabbed what looked like a trench shovel which he swung wildly at the much more agile woman. Hanala dodged it and swung her blade out, piercing through the man's hand, forcing him to drop the shovel.

Armed, unarmed. It didn't matter to Hanala. She simply rammed the blade through his throat over and over again until he dropped to the sand underneath him, dead before even he realized it. Hanala remained latched onto the dying man, her blade still entering and exiting his body.

Hoch's swelling eyes blinked. What in the hell did he just witness?

Breathing heavily as the rage subsided; Hanala took a step back and turned to Joachim. Her expression blank and blood soaked, still clutching the knife like it kept her alive. Her chest was heaving as she stepped back to him.

"Hanala... I'm sorry... I am sorry…" was all the Joachim could say.

Hanala paid no mind to his concerns. She moved past him and planted herself next to Galas.

Numb, Hanala reached up, her hand tugging off her Stahlhelm, dropping it into the sand before the fallen quarian. Her head was bowed to him; her hands reached up and pulled the braids from out of her hair. Silently she sunk next to the body. Carefully she rolled Galas over, her hands trembling as they closed his eyes.

As she softly whispered what sounded like small prayer to Galas, Joachim's hand pressed against her shoulder. She slowly reached up, taking the hand offered as she stared blankly at the body before her.

"We need to burn his body, Joachim," she murmured out loud. "We can't bring him, and we can't risk it falling into enemy hands."

Hoch nodded without Hanala witnessing it. He found himself somewhat stunned at the use of the word 'enemy'. He remained silent, his hand pulling from her. As he left to find some petrol, he could hear the faint muffled sobs coming from the Captain.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

They had decided on night time to perform the burial. In preparation, both Martus and Joachim dug a grave to burn Galas in. Hanala didn't see the reasons why until Joachim explained that it would conceal the flames down in the pit.

As for Fuhrmann, the young soldier who really saved them all, he was unconscious and being treated by The Tiger radioman - the scar faced man named Rolf as he was called once by Hertzer - and eventually Martus after he finished digging. He would make it according to Martus, but it would be best not to move him for some time.

For now, the expedition was on hold as everyone gathered round the pit as Hoch and Hertzer carefully placed the stripped down Galas into the pit.

Hanala watched with silent reverence as Joachim splashed the husk of Galas with fossil fuel stolen from one of the English light roofless trucks. As the last of the petrol was soaked into Galas, the blood caked human pulled himself from out of the pit and placed himself next to Hanala.

It was silent as the group stared down to the fallen quarian. Hertzer reached up and tugged off his cap in respect to the dead. He nodded his head respectfully as he and his tank crew left Hanala, Joachim and Martus to the task at hand. Hanala tilted her head slightly up to Joachim, who nodded in support.

"I didn't know him well, I wish I did," Hanala broke the silence as she turned from him, wiping the dry blood from off her face. "But he was my crew, vas Devoas. Family, under _my_ command..."

She trailed off and took the lit improvised torch they made from out of Joachim's hands. She dropped the flaming torch into the pit, engulfing Galas in flames. The three of them stepped back as the smoke poured off the body and blended into the night sky. She shook her head as Joachim grabbed a second canister of fuel to feed the fire.

"He's another I failed to protect."

Behind them, a voice spoke.

"It was damn foolish to come here... but he knew the risk."

Hanala looked up. It was Martus, staring hard at the burning body before them. There was respect in his voice that surprised Hanala and Joachim, who looked up as well in surprise.

"He was a soldier first, a pilot second, Captain Jarva," the older quarian muttered lowly as he looked up to his captain. "He knew better than most that his life could end at any moment in war, no matter how primitive the people we may be fighting."

Joachim closed his eyes and ignored the barb.

"Xen is right, Captain..." Joachim grudgingly admitted. "A soldier accepts that risk... as much as a captain must be ready to lose a men."

Hanala glanced at both of them. With one last look to her fallen and without any more words for her fallen pilot, she turned and left the two men and departed off into the direction of the jeeps. Hoch and Martus turned and shared a significant look.

"Go on…" Martus tersely broke the silence. "I'll make sure the body is... well... you know."

Martus shrugged helplessly. Understanding that his intentions were to oversee the cremation of Galas'Yoad, Joachim nodded his head, his head bowing respectfully to the rare moment of humble decentness he had witnessed in Martus'Xen, who turned away and stepped back to the pit, leaving Joachim alone as he wandered to catch up with the still stunned looking quarian captain.

She stopped moving as she heard the thud of boots approach her. She turned back, revealing her eyes brimmed full of tears that were escaping down her cheeks. She sniffled, cleared her throat and furiously dabbed her eyes.

As she looked up her despair was suppressed and back on her face was confidence as she examined the man standing before her.

"Come along, Joachim'Hoch." She decided, still smiling oddly, her mouth trembling as she struggled to retain control. "Let's… let's get you cleaned up... preferably away from... well, the smell."

Joachim nodded and together they headed in the direction of the furthest English vehicle.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

"Watch your hand!"

Hanala glared at the man who was easily two or three heads taller than she. Keelah, he whined like a child!

They sat together mostly in silence as Hanala went to work cleaning and dressing the wounds that Hoch received from the interrogator. They both were pretty hurt, but they were alive and not seriously wounded. Much more then what could be said for Galas, and Fuhrmann who was lucky to be alive and would soon find himself being owed many times over for his actions. He had saved them all.

"Sorry about Fuhrmann." She mumbled half-heartedly.

"He's alive," Joachim assured the only half paying attention woman. "That big bastard is going to need more than a few English chunks of lead in him. Good thing I fattened him up a bit... slow the bullets down."

Joachim smiled at his words, Hanala did not. She simply ran her fingers along his skin, tracing each bruise very carefully. Satisfied, she reluctantly let go of his face and cast her sight downwards. She did her best not to remember Galas' death which had been plaguing her like a new added guilt.

This was all her fault. Her foolish pride demanded she be here. Standing in lands that reminded her of the stories grandmother and father told of the home world. It was her abhorrent arrogance that demanded her to march them through occupied territory instead of waiting until it was safe.

Hanala felt her chin being raised by softer, slender fingers. She found herself gazing into the cool blue belonging to that of Joachim. They were bruised but filled with a concern she rarely so received. Being a captain meant that people stopped viewing you as quarian. That she was just as capable of as many mistakes as those who served under her. Every insult she heard uttered by Martus... they hurt. They made her chest implode and her heart dull as she had no outlet to tell what she felt.

It seemed that Joachim didn't mind actively confronting him... perhaps he could stick around...

"Your turn, try to relax." he said finally. Hanala nodded.

"Cigarette," she ordered lightly, her hand reaching out in front of her.

Joachim nodded and retrieved a cigarette for her, lighting on her behalf and placing the filter into her lips. She inhaled it slowly as she watched Hoch damp his own cloth in water and brought it up to her face, stroking it with a gentleness she could not imagine the man could have. She closed her eyes and leaned against the abandoned jeep.

"How many men have you lost?" she asked as smoke billowed from her lips, touching Joachim who inhaled her second hand smoke as though it was sweetened air.

Hoch shrugged.

"Two hundred and thirty seven between 1939 and today," he stated dispassionately, like he could not bring himself to feel anything about it.

Hanala blinked at the number. It was a startling number.

"How... How do you _deal_ with it?" she again questioned him, still very much stunned by the number. Here she was crying for the twenty-six she had lost under her command.

Again, all the human could do was shrug.

"I don't…" Hoch admitted with a humourless rumble. "This war is long and everyone has lost someone to it, so why am I anything special?"

Hanala nodded and fell silent for a moment. She suddenly laughed slightly.

"Is it wrong that I'm glad that Martus is still alive?" she asked him.

Joachim could only smile at her gaffe. Wiping the last of blood from off her face, he followed her lead, his hand pressed lightly against her discoloured face. Wordless like she had been, he leaned in closer, much too close for Hanala's brain to properly work. She felt his hand pull the cigarette from her mouth. He felt a gentle tickling of air escaping his nose and finally she felt his lips touch his.

She closed her eyes, her toes curling as the human threw her cigarette away and run up the back of her neck, tingling her spine as his clumsy looking hand ran through her hair. He pulled back, he looked almost... bashful.

Odd.

"I am… sorry…" was all he murmured and turned away. Hanala shook her head, refusing the apology as she stood up and offered him her hand. Joachim took it and pulled himself up, briefly colliding their bodies together.

With nervous smiles shared between the human and the quarian, the two of them wandered away from the jeep, Hanala glanced at him and, in a moment of personal bravery reached out and took his hand. The fading star known as Sol still had enough life in it to reveal that Joachim was still looking right back at her, a silly look of smug satisfaction written on his face. She leaned in to him, her body now pressed against him as they walked. She gasped as the hand that she had been holding pulled out of her grip and wrapped around her waist as though he had decided she was already his.

They sat down in the sand, far from the jeeps left by the dead SAS, far from the Tiger tank and the smoldering remains of Galas'Yoad. They needed somewhere private where they could explore this... thing.

Hanala turned her body around her mashed up face contorted into a slight smile s she pushed her onto his lap. She paid no mind to the surprise note escaping Joachim's lips which was swiftly silenced by Hanala's pressing tightly against his. She felt him melt into her affection as she pulled back.

"I thought that you-"

Hanala glared at him slightly, her uniform unbuttoned and pushed off her body, revealing her modest, perky breasts to the suddenly very silent male underneath her. He simply stared at her exposed and very pale body. She felt both thrilled and very nervous about this man's attention.

She wasn't an expert in this. She had... tried this before as a teen. It never went far, nothing particularly special, just a boy or two fumbling around ignorantly. It did not help that her father had obliged her request for Captaincy training by 18, which wasn't very good with developing personal relationships.

Still... ignoring the failed intimacy in the past, ignoring he belonged to another species and especially ignoring he didn't understand even the most basic concepts she was taught in early schooling on the fleet. She instead took his hand and carefully had it cup her breast.

"Joachim'Hoch, just _shut up_ and _kiss_ me," she demanded, pushing the man down onto the dirt and kissing him hard.

Not bothering to wait for a retort, Hanala pulled both of Joachim's arms over his head and went in for the kill. They wouldn't have sex... But what was the harm of fooling around?

 **...**

* * *

...

The morning sun broke over the two people in quite possibly the most complicated relationship on Earth. One belonging to a private army that touted racial superiority, the other an alien hundreds of years more advance then he was. She would most likely be ostracized for what she did with him in a moment of personal weakness, if she felt anything for the primitive.

Primitives... The quarians may have been a technologically superior race, but they still allowed emotions to dictate their actions. He did not need much more of an example then Hanala killing two men out of rage then nearly making love to him as though he was a prize after a good day of killing.

Shaking his head, Joachim cracked his neck and glanced down to the quarian lying still in his lap, wrapped inside of a commandeered blanket from one of the SAS jeeps, only half dressed like he was all thinks to her very efficient hands.

As his groggy state faded, he suddenly found himself extremely itchy. She had warned him that there was a good chance they would be allergic to one another. Something mumbled about being two different genetic types or whatever. Dextro and Levo's were at one point mumbled but quickly forgotten as the two of them lost their inhibition and gave into urges building since they first met.

Scratching his neck, Joachim felt Hanala's head shift on his lap then a sudden low moan as though she too was feeling the allergies coming on as well. Her head pulled up, her lips dragging against his chest, inflamed by her saliva and sweat. As she pulled back, she managed to chuckle, appearing almost dazed as she looked up to him.

"Oh Keelah..." she mumbled into him. "That... that didn't happen…"

Much too elated to be offended by her second denial of him, the human chuckled at the quarians groaning tone.

"Look at the bright side." he said, offering her a painful smile. "At least the bruising will cover up the swelling."

Hanala tried to laugh, but was caught up in a sudden round of coughing against his bare chest. She blinked furiously and looked up to him. Her face nearly as mashed up as his. Slowly she smiled, her sharp teeth showing for the man holding her as though she was his already.

She leaned up, through blacked out and hooded eyes, she leaned in and kissed him once again, albeit much more tenderly and with a lot less of her saliva involved. He kissed her back, hell, he wanted to do more, but every comprehension thought told him that he had to remain respectful. He could not simply... well, take charge with her.

Not yet at least.

With a great reluctance in her expression, Hanala pulled back, buttoning up several buttons of her Afrika Korps uniform to conceal her breasts from out of his sight. Firm, generous flesh that was just as inflamed as the rest of her body where his lips met the dense, easily excitable flesh.

Her long hands reached out gripping, moving through his hair as they did last night. They pushed him down, forcing his face to rest just under Hanala's chin.

They kissed again, slow and extremely careful, despite it being much too late for that.

"Herr Hoch, Fraulein Jarva!"

The two pulled back from each other's lips as the loud call erupted from no more than a hundred meters from them, their foreheads touched one another briefly before they both stood up reluctantly, fixing one another's uniforms like they were already an old couple.

With a final kiss on the side of Joachim's lips, Hanala took his hands and dragged him back to the rest of the team, both of them guiltily satisfied with themselves.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

How in the hell could she have done that? It was obvious and extremely disturbing.

He knew that look written on his Captain's face. Martus had seen it on his wife's expression after being intimate with him. Well Galas certainly wasn't doing anything and Martus was not only married but would not touch Hanala'Jarva even if she begged it... which meant one thing.

Joachim'Hoch.

Of course it did not help them to deny it that they were both swollen up as though they both had allergenic reactions which again, meant only one very disgusting thing.

Captain Hanala'Jarva, daughter of Admiral Alaan'Jarva vas Rayya had gone native... oh... Martus could only imagine the family shame that their daughter made first contact with a race by fucking a local. It made her look like a common asari whore, really.

Spitting, Martus sat alone at the open pit, staring at the ashes and what little of Galas was left. As the two of them approached, he looked up wearily for only a moment before turning back. He really did not want to look at their swollen faces, self-inflicted by their experimentations or not.

"Hertzer, we will be commandeering a jeep and continuing on to the objective," Joachim'Hoch spoke to the tank commander. "We'll meet you there... take care of Fuhrmann, will you?"

Martus could not believe what he was hearing from the naïve primitive. They had taken casualties and still they were pressing their mission. A hunt for a fuel source that didn't even exist! Captain Hanala still had this fool believing that the very planet was at stake if they didn't find element zero?

"Tell me, Captain," he called out. "Is your little secret worth it?"

Hanala froze at his question posed. She turned from the human and faced him. Her expression was blank but her body was shaking with anger as her eyes hardened and glared at him.

Hoch looked between the two quarians.

"There's no choice in the matter," Hoch spoke up, chastising the older quarian for his statement. "We need fuel, right?"

That was all it took.

"You _idiot_ … you damnable _idiot_ , there is no element zero on this _godforsaken, insane planet_!" Martus exploded now inches away from the human. "The esteemed captain played you for a fool! There's something out here that only she and her deceased surveyor knew about. Something her father, an admiral, told her undoubtedly!"

Martus paused and watched as the ancestor forsaken human's colour seem to vanish before their very eyes. He smiled as Hanala sputtered with rage.

"Admiral's daughter or not, do you really think they would destroy your race simply because we were missing or killed?" Martus cut off Hanala, staring at Hoch, who remained locked in place. "It was a horror story told by Jarva to put fear in you to keep you polite and subservient to her. This excursion is a leisure trip _she_ made that cost Galas his life. It nearly killed your attaché; it nearly killed each and every one of us. How delusional are you to want to contin-"

A sudden and resounding crack made Martus' face explode in agony. He dropped to the ground, clutching his mouth as it bled. He looked up and found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol covered in Martus' blood. Gone was the charm and civility that Hoch was manipulating them with. His face was contorted into rage much like when he held Hanala as a shield.

Hoch's boot fell onto his chest. He leaned down and placed the pistol's barrel into Martus' mouth. His eyes went wide as he gagged on the cold steel that was now pressed against the roof of his mouth. Hoch's lips curled back, his teeth bared at the quarian navigator underneath him.

"You really did not think that one out, did you Herr Xen?" Hoch taunted him, his voice growing cruelly then neither of the quarians head before. "Since I don't have to fear extermination, what's holding me back from simply killing _you_?"

"Joachim, please don't."

From behind the human, a hand belonging to the quarian captain fell onto his shoulders. Her touch was enough to make the angered Hoch blink, slowly and very reluctantly, he pulled the pistol back and snapped the weapon back into his holster. He stepped off Martus' chest and pulled him back up to his feet.

"Consider yourself alive only by your captain's charity," Hoch spoke finally as he wiped the dust from Martus' jacket. "Now gear up and get into that truck, or I'll burn you in that pit like Galas. Only you'll still have pulse."

Martus glowered at the human and turned from him, storming to the jeep, not far behind him were Hanala and the bastard human.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Watching as the bastard quarian stepped back; Joachim Hoch turned his attention back to Hanala'Jarva. She slowly came to realize he was not done with her.

"Joachim…" she started. "I'm... I'm sorry."

"I want an _explanation_ ," he demanded his voice almost as hard to her as it had been to his. "I've given you a wide berth, Hanala. I have made allowances to your privacy. I have even withheld information you have shared from my superiors, information. Langer is doing his best not to prod, but he answers to superiors far more demanding then he is."

He gestured to Martus as the male quarian spat the blood out of his mouth and into the sand.

"If Martus isn't full of lies, then I want an answer."

Hanala turned from Hoch, but before she should follow Martus, Hoch's hand grabbed her forearm and snapped her close to him, slamming her into the much taller human. His sharp blue eyes burned into her.

"Why are we here, Hanala? Why did Galas die?" Hoch demanded, though his voice was much more in check the only moments prior.

Hanala's hands rubbed together, clearly in a state of personal conflict. Joachim rolled his eyes as he climbed into the vehicle. Hanala followed him, she seemed to be shaking, her nerves were getting the better of her as she debated internally. She looked like a frightened little girl, losing her little relationship already.

Finally, she relented.

"You can't breathe a word about this... either of you two." Hanala finally spoke to them. Joachim nodded, and Martus merely inclined his head. He would listen to what she had to say.

She stepped back from him, her hand running through the back of her hair as she attempted to figure out how she was going to word what she needed to say to the pair of them.

"On our way, I'll tell you about a race known as the Protheans..." Hanala murmured lowly to Hoch's ignorant stare. "My father and the rest of the Admiralty Board believe that they crashed a Dreadnought here... in Libya. This find is going to advance both our races by hundreds of years."

While it meant nothing to him, Martus'Xen blanched.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Significant reduction in melodrama between the WJewish interrogator and Hoch, less Martus being an arrogant dick. Cutting back on the swearing as well.**

 **This took a little longer and I suspect that the next few chapters will be the same. They are ugly as hell and I am surprised no one really told me how bad it was**.


	11. The Discovery

**Chapter Eleven: The Discovery**

 **...**

"You know, I was thinking... What if our ship classifications aren't able to be applied to the Protheans? What if a three kilometer vessel we consider a dreadnought is considered a light frigate by their standards? Makes this discovery pale quite a bit, right?"

Hanala glanced over to Martus'Xen, who was deep in contemplation about the revelations she had made hours. Though he was a pest as Joachim dismissed him, his theories were not without some truth. The Prothean ship really could have been small in comparison. They could have ruled the galaxy with a relatively small but powerful fleet for all they knew.

Turning away, she watched as Hoch stared out ahead of them, his focus was solely directed on driving. He was clearly not impressed with the situation he was now in. He was officially over his head although to be fair so was she, really. A year ago she had no intentions on volunteering for the observation assignment; a month ago she had no intentions on making this journey to North Africa.

Thinking about it in hindsight, Hanala really should have been more open about things related to the Protheans, about herself, about her race. Joachim had been nothing short of a perfect host to her. He generally respected her, but treated her no differently because of her status as a daughter of an admiral. Whether it was deliberate, ignorance on his part or simply good manners it felt good that she had that chance to prove herself to him.

"So let me get this straight," Joachim decided to summarize. "An ancient, powerful race, which controlled the galaxy over fifty thousand years old vanished from the galaxy, their technology is utilized by space fairing races such as yours or the asari or the turians."

Hanala nodded as she took in his terse words, it must have sounded insane to him. It would to her had the roles been reversed.

"Over ten years ago, Admiral Jalina'Calis vas Kareon was on a surveying operation, when she and her crew intercepted a message sent twice the speed of light," she explained as Joachim turned as Martus directed where Hoch should head next... "Slow, by all standards. She was over 3400 light years from Earth at the time. She came as soon as she could and found that there was untouched life here on Earth."

Joachim snorted to himself.

"I suppose you don't have the contents of the message," he sardonically asked of her.

Hanala shook her head and turned away. She didn't and she wished she did, but even less people knew about it than people knew about humans. Hanala glanced over in the human's direction and saw that Joachim as looking at her. He had furious eyes, directly solely for her.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She carefully asked of him. She knew the answer, but she just had to ask.

Joachim did not answer her as he came to a stop at the sand dune. He turned the truck off and leaned backwards into his seat, his hands digging into his pocket for a cigarette. His face was contorted into a scowl as he stared ahead, his cigarette now lit and being inhaled.

Hanala turned off her omni-tool and straightened out her uniform. She turned back to Martus who seemed to be smirking, as though he exactly what this temper of Joachim's was about.

"How could you deceive me like that?" he suddenly exploded at her, forcing her focus back to him. His eyes burned into hers to such a degree that it left her uncomfortable.

Hanala glared defiantly up to the human. She wasn't about to be intimidated, even if she _was_ intimidated.

"You'll _have_ to forgive me," was Hanala's sudden sarcasm rolling through her words. "The discovery was classified as top secret. There are maybe under fifty people of my species that knows what in the hell is buried here."

The tension between the Joachim and her was far too much for Martus'Xen, who huffed and activated his omni-tool to track the probe once again.

"I'll leave you two at it," he grumbled to the two of them as he walked away. "I would not want to spoil this little fling of yours."

Martus left, leaving Hanala furiously flushed at his observation of something so obvious. Joachim on the other hand, remained stoic. His eyes never left her. Hanala sighed and shuffled closer, her hands wringing as the height of the human become very obvious and quite intimidating to her.

"Besides, I told you from the very beginning that there were things I could speak about and there were things I could not speak about," She gently reminded him, trying her best to keep him from getting any more upset. "Well... this falls into the category of things that could get me exiled for speaking about."

"Fine," Joachim snapped unmoved by her soft phrasing. "But you still used me to get you here."

Hanala rolled her eyes. He sounded like a whining asari right now.

"Again, you'll have to forgive me for my transgression, Herr Hoch," Hanala nearly growled to the man who now served as an object of both fascination and annoyance. "I might be more advanced then you, technology wise but I'm still capable of having pride, ambition -base feelings that will never vanish no matter how much technology is in my power. I wanted to see this site first, I wanted to lay stake on it and throw my species centuries ahead the _bosh'tet's_ who stand against us!"

Hanala paused and took in a long deep inhale. She was ranting now. Ranting wasn't a good sign... She was just so annoyed by him, though in her own opinion, she had no right to be. She had been deceiving him since they first met while he appeared to be nothing short of genuine.

"I'm only quarian... I make mistakes," she mumbled near mutinously.

The anger burning in Joachim seemed to vanish like hers had. He was mad, but he had calmed down just enough to check his anger, to give her one more chance before he went on the attack again.

"So you'll take this risk..." he spoke again, this time more in control. "Even at the cost of Galas' life?"

Hanala's blood ran cold as she remembered who died hours ago, which she buried and tried to forget for the sake of herself and the mission. A feeling of guilt Joachim reminded she should have for her arrogance by standing on this arid desert, while Galas remained a pile of cindering ashes and bits of charred bone.

"Yes, at the cost of Galas..." she finally breathed demurely, Her pride vanishing before Joachim's very eyes. "I don't want anyone to die for this secret, but the reward far outweighs the risk. This ship is worth more than all of our lives. This technological jump is our descendants' future."

Hoch rumbled a laugh under his breath as he shook his head.

" _Unbelievable_ …" he muttered to no one, but it was clear he directed it to her.

Hoch climbed out of the vehicle, marching in the direction of Xen, Hanala hot on his heels. She wasn't sure why it bothered her… being judged by him, but Hanala was bothered. She stepped out in front of him, forcing him to stop. She turned her head up to Joachim, her sharp teeth bared as she got up into Joachim's face.

"Says a man apart of an organization that has _confiscated_ my weapons, my ships and the bodies of my crew," she listed off, her voice again losing its patience with him as she poked his chest. "You'll be getting the glory of making first contact with my people, well this is my glory. Finding something that could be used get back Ranno..."

Hanala trailed off.

 _Rannoch._

She had said way too much and now she would pay for it. Joachim wasn't an idiot; he knew when someone was holding something back so obvious. His eyes narrowed at her, making the captain extremely uncomfortable with the position she let herself get into.

"Get back _what_ , Captain?" Joachim carefully asked his voice between an order and a request.

Well... she would tell him. He earned the truth. Hanala rubbed the back of her neck, her head shaking.

"There are seventeen million quarians, Joachim. We survive on our fleet; _only_ on our fleet… nowhere else." Hanala admitted, the low number troubling her greatly. Hanala looked down to her feet and swallowed the lump growing in her throat as the facts felt like a stab in the stomach. Quarians still lived in a state of denial about their race. Confessing how crippled her species was felt like she had condemned her race all over again.

Finally she looked up to Joachim's disbelieving eyes.

 _"We're homeless,"_ Hanala dolefully stated.

Those two words hung over them ominously. Hanala nearly lost her control. She furiously blinked the water in her eyes away and smiled ruefully to the silently staring man standing so close to her.

"I lied again to you, Joachim. I have not seen Rannoch first hand," she spoke, a load off her shoulders thanks to finally confessing the truth. "We've been exiled from Rannoch for nearly fifty years. Those we could not rescue were systematically exterminated."

The confession made the human pale.

"By who?" he demanded to know.

Hanala grimly shook her head.

"By _what_ ," she corrected him, her voice bitter as they recalled the horror her people created. "We were exiled by machines known as the geth: our creation. They decided that they were being subjugated and thus, was worth the lives of seven billion quarians on Rannoch alone, two billion in our colonies."

The information hit Joachim with a force Hanala did not expect. He looked shocked at first, then like he was going to be physically ill at the statement. She felt the guilt return as she wiped her eyes. She was first generation ship born and she hadn't quite comprehended what was lost in the extermination. Hoch glanced up, the attempt at comprehending the devastating loss replaced with resolve.

"I thought there were other races you were aware of," Joachim questioned her, his words suspicious. "Could they not have helped stop this madness?"

Hanala glanced up to him, drying her eyes and shaking her head as though Joachim was asking a childish question.

"Yes, they could have if they wanted to, perhaps saved billions even," she informed him as she stepped slightly closer to him. "The thing is, though , as it happened we've been cast out of the galactic community so that they could avoid war altogether. The Admirals of the past, who led our fleet, had decided continuing the war against these machines. Each attack on the geth has grown more desperate... now, since I was a little girl there has been a shift in policy."

" _Us_ ," Hoch guessed.

Hanala nodded, her hands reaching out to take Joachim's. She watched them with mild fascination as they somehow worked out a way to mesh almost perfectly.

"See... this mission to Earth isn't here just for the ship. We need a _home_ ," Hanala carefully admitted. "Every world that has our compatibility is either under geth control or the turians have a controlling interest in the world and have threatened us with a war we can't win. So instead we want to settle here... build artificial environments to grow our food, blend in and settle amongst your race…"

Hanala shrugged half-heartedly, saying, "Perhaps one day soon we will have enough strength to take Rannoch back."

Joachim continued to stare at her.

"But you're going to need us, right?"

Hanala nodded her head gravely.

"That's the official line."

They fell silent as they walked. She glanced over to Joachim who seemed to have been thinking over what she had been speaking of. Feeling like she gave too much information at one time, she stepped closer to him, her hand touching his. Joachim glanced to the gesture; a ghost of a smile escaped him.

"And yours?" Joachim asked, he seemed somewhat disgruntled at finding out that quarians wanted humans for this reason.

To wage war on their behalf, even Hanala found problems with now that she spent time amongst this people. They may have been warlike, but it was not a permanent state like the krogan. She could see it in Joachim's eyes as she watched him fight for the first time. It could not have been expected from them to pick up their fight without a question asked.

"We aren't monsters," she sighed. "The Admiralty Board may want to use you, but we cannot simply force your race as our foot soldiers, no matter how much we may need you or how technologically advanced we are. We are trying to earn a home here. We should not force a war you have no personal stake in."

Joachim stopped walking and turned to her, his hand in hers squeezed back tightly as she nearly melted under those magnificent blue eyes of his.

"I would fight for you." He said, his words spoken carefully.

Hanala tilted her head, surprised at his willingness to aid her.

"You would?" She asked, unable to hide her surprise. "You would fight the geth for my people?"

Joachim shook his head, his chin bowed as he tried not to smile. He glanced back up to her confusion.

"I would fight the geth for _you_ ," he spoke softly, his face blank but his words filled with a genuine promise.

Hanala blinked yet again, unable to believe what she heard from the human. He... He would fight, not for her people but for her? How...

She shook her head and pushed any feeling that was beyond indifference into the deepest pit of her mind. She had no time to be both suddenly flattered and very... well, aroused. Not that she would ever admit... well, perhaps she would one day. Just not now… not on the verge of making the greatest scientific discovery in hundreds of years.

Shaking her mind from thoughts other than recovering the Dreadnought, she turned back to Joachim who stood there, his arms crossed across his chest and simply smiled at her knowing. Arrogance was shining through of course, knowing that he now had the ability to stun her into near submission.

Suddenly Joachim laughed.

"Why do you do that?" he asked, pointing to her. "Bounce on your toes like that I mean. It's cute."

Hanala flushed, her pale skin turning dark as she realized she was indeed bouncing on her toes.

 _Oh Keelah..._

 _"Firing Probe!"_ Martus called out aloud, ending the embarrassing sensation in the captain. In an instant, blue flames from the laser attached to the probe erupted from the side of the sand dune at a low angle, firing off into the blue sky as it burned a hole through thousands of tonnes of rock, dirt and sand, all the way down to the Prothean vessel.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 **" _FIRE!_ "**

The explosion of a massive round fired meters from him, forced Heinrich Fuhrmann to open his eyes and hiss in an agony he never felt before. It was like being hung over but there was no end in sight for his pain. He glanced down and found himself wrapped tightly in what looked like pounds of white linen bandage; they were soaked through from blood still flowing through the tightly compressed wounds .

He tried to remember what he did... he had killed a commando with a knife, a bunch more with Molotov cocktails and even more with the turret mounted MG-34... How was that even possible?

 _"Where am I?"_ He mumbled groggily, his head rolled to one side as he looked to the radio operator.

The radio operator turned around, his face severely scarred, but nonetheless, broke into a wide smile at Fuhrmann's reawakening.

"Welcome back to the land of the living Herr Fuhrmann," Scarface spoke to him, still with a large grin. "I would shake your hand but you need to stay still. You saved all our asses yesterday."

 **"** _ **FIRE!**_ **"**

The main gun of the Tiger exploded yet again.

"Ignore the fire," Scarface spoke to the wincing Unteroffizier. "Hertzer decided that he wanted to pay the British back by stalking a column of supply trucks and tanks heading to the Tripoli."

Had Heinrich's senses worked properly, he could have made out the screams of the British and their desperate return of fire in every direction. What Fuhrmann didn't know was that it was now night time that Hertzer parked his Tiger on the highest hilltop he could find. Unfortunately for the British below them, Dieter Hertzer had turned his Tiger into a .88 round firing sniper rifle and was making them pay for everything they had endured at the hands of the SAS.

 _"Herr Hoch?"_ he groggily demanded, realizing now of the absence of the rest of the team.

"Hoch and the aliens are heading to their mining operation," Scarface spoke again reassuringly, "As soon as we're done here we'll be heading their way."

A memory came back to him. The sudden explosion of chaos, of the SAS raid, the overwhelming gunfire, Galas'Yoad being hit... Fuhrmann looked up.

 _"Galas?"_

The name of the quarian brought a silence to the tank crew. Hertzer turned away from the gunner and turned back towards Fuhrmann, his expression grimly blank.

"Galas is dead, boy," Hertzer stated solemnly. "Such is the way of war… well he won't be forgotten." He added and gestured to the gunner who was wearing Galas' goggles. "Thanks to him, we're tank hunting at night."

The Tiger's main gun fired again. Fuhrmann ignored it as he reeled in shock.

One of the quarians was dead. He had expected to feel pretty damn good about it. They had after all killed three of his friends one cold night in Russia. That elation however was not happening. Fuhrmann just felt empty, as empty as he felt when his friends were killed.

"Scratch number fifteen, column decimated!" the gunner announced, pulling the goggles off his eyes and turning back to his Commander s though seeking approval.

Hertzer suddenly snorted.

"Did I say anything about relenting? Reload and find a target. Infantry in groups are next," Hertzer commanded sternly. "Maybe Rommel's tankers are a bunch of lenient; do nothings against the English, but we sure as hell aren't!"

He paused and glanced at Fuhrmann.

"Still good work…" he complimented the Unteroffizier. "I would break out our scotch for celebration but someone decided he would use the bottles to torch pasty, scrawny English assholes to a cinder."

Fuhrmann groaned as the tank crew laughed.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

Though the sun was setting and the mining laser turned off hours ago, the three of them had to wait until the tunnel, burnt so hot that it was turned into glass cooled down and fully hardened. It was a temporary mining shaft tunnel according to Martus; it would survive a few days without supports.

In the meantime, Joachim situated himself behind the jeep for a few hours of rest as he contemplated the honesty Hanala displayed; about their race being homeless, about the geth extermination, about the aliens abandoning the quarians to such a fate. It was hard to believe that advanced races could be so vindictive.

Still, by the way Hanala berated herself as _'only quarian'_. Well it was very... human of her. Perhaps she was right, there were saints, sinners and assholes regardless of technological achievement. It was somewhat discomforting to think that. Aliens with a grudge and weapons to wipe humanity out should they choose to Here he thought advancement equated enlightenment. His eyes were closed by he could here footsteps come around the jeep. The movement stopped over him. He could feel a single finger touch against his Adam's apple, the sensation of faint breathing ticked against his nose.

"Joachim?"

Joachim opened one of his eyes and found Hanala's kneeling over him. Her cool to touch alien hand now pushed upwards and touching his cheek, scraping against the roughness of his face, unshaven since he landed in Italy which felt like days ago.

"I wanted you to take this." Hanala murmured, her hand opening to reveal a small circular electronic device, donning what looked like an arm brace of some sort.

Joachim assumed this was the same device that Hanala wore. It was an omni-tool if that was the correct hypothesis.

"It was Galas'," she explained as she carefully wrapped it around the humans arm. "You don't understand Khellish, nor do we have a time to convert it into your written language, but if you press this button you'll have a light amplification device. We'll be heading into the ship soon... might just need it. "

The device flashed to life, illuminating Hanala face with a bright light that had it been him, he probably would have shielded his eyes. It did not bother Hanala however, who simply pressed the activation button again, killing both the light and the blue haze wrapped around his herself off her knees.

Hanala sat down properly next to him, her hands shyly wandering over him with a daring that still surprised him and reminded just how unreal this whole situation was. He had become a plaything for an attractive alien.

Oh the shame.

He reached up, his hand grabbing her forearm which earned a sudden and surprising giggle as the woman collapsed on top of him. Hanala sighed, her face planting into his chest as she carefully relaxed into him. His hand moved through her hair. It felt different than what he expected. It was much more... rough.

Joachim listened as his movements earned the strangest of sounds. It was a near animalistic purr. Thinking about the curves Hanala possessed, she did seem rather shaped like a feline... or it was just Hanala, he wasn't sure really. He only witnessed one female quarian first hand. Perhaps he would get a better impression when he met other quarian women; but if they were half as good looking as Hanala...

"I don't think I should kiss you," she mused, her lips only inches from his. "I would not want to make you uglier."

Joachim rolled his eyes at her bard and leaned in to kiss the woman lying on top of him.

Forget being polite, he wanted her.

 **...**

 **...**

 _"This is Lieutenant Martus'Xen vas Devoas, sending this signal out on behalf of Captain Hanala'Jarva vas Devoas. We have made contact with the fascists, repeat; we have made contact with the fascists. We're currently located in a region of Earth known as Libya. GPS coordinates will be encrypted as standard operating procedures but considering we're the only people on this rock capable of this messaging..."_

Turning away from the fourth planet in the human solar system, Admiral Halid'Zorah closed the message and turned back to the father in question, whose hands were covering his face.

"They're at the main crash site," Zorah simply stated. "Alaan... Alaan did you?"

"I told her, yes, I had to. It is standard procedure for anyone keeping a listening post over the planet," Alaan admitted unbothered by the stares of Zorah, Falan and Vaerhit. "The ships surveyor and the Captain are the only ones aware of the discovery. That's how it has always operated."

Next to the Father, Admiral Utala'Falan rubbed her forehead as she pondered this latest development.

"Then it appears your daughter has decided on performing the expedition on her own accord, then," she pointed out, her voice stern as it was directed to the Father of the offender. "Had this been anyone other than Hanala I would probably filing treason charges for this breach in security-"

Zorah watched in fascination as the father and Admiral Falan exploded into a full blown argument. It was like watching two children attempt to assert dominance of the other.

"She made contact with the humans," Admiral Calis mused. She seemed almost pleased by the act. As the rest of the admirals ceased their bickering and turned to the senior member of the board; she quietly sat there, slumped slightly into her seat, her weathered hands tapped together as she looked up and noticed that her few words captured their curious attention.

"Whether she had permission by us or not, Hanala has made first contact with humans and they've allowed her freedom to operate on her own free will," Jalina explained herself, her tone full of good humour as she added. "We will not judge until we too join your daughter and find out what has happened."

Deciding against pointing out that the humans could have been coercing his daughter into acting so rashly. Glancing to Admiral Zorah, who had enough good sense not to be enthusiastic as Jalina, Alaan nodded and turned to Captain Daer'Haleos.

"Captain, I need a team of Marines to land ground side with us."

Captain Haleos snapped out a salute and marched out of the gathering room to relay the orders to the ground forces she had on the ship.

Before anything could be said, the door slid open again, surprising Alaan and the rest of the admirals occupying the room. Standing in the doorway was Galina'Jarva, mostly dressed in her environmental suit, her hands clutching her helmet as she stared down Alaan with a determination of a mother demanding to get her child home safe with or without the aid of anyone.

"I'm coming too…" she simply demanded, stepping into the room and joining the rest of the occupants.

The Admirals shared a look with each other and to Alaan.

Clearing his throat, Alaan directed his command to his wife.

"No, Galina, I'm sorry-" Alaan tried to dismiss her.

"She's our _child_!" she reminded her husband her voice hissing as she paid no mind to snickering of Admiral Vaerhit and the careful inspection made by Halid'Zorah.

"Hanala's in the middle of top secret expedition," Alaan gently tried to persuade his wife. "I cannot allow you to accompany us. When I find her, I'll bring her back to you."

Galina narrowed her eyes. She glanced to each of the occupants of the room briefly before leaning into Alaan's ear. Her hands now gloved dug into his with more pressure than he ever expected from her. So hard he half expected to start bleeding everywhere.

 _"If you don't allow my company, I will make your life such a misery that only sweet death will relieve you from, husband…"_ she growled dangerously into his ear. She paid no mind to the suddenly very worried expression overriding his discipline. She pulled back from her husband and crossed her arms, defiant once more in his and the rest of the admiralty's presence.

Galina'Jarva pulled on her helmet and left the briefing room, leaving Alaan rubbing his neck and trying to fight the blush on his face left by a wife that was now broodingly overprotective of her missing child. He turned to the Admirals and took in each of their reactions. Vaerhit's disapproval, Zorah's confusion, Falan's amusement and Calis' motherly pride in her youngest daughter, her only surviving child.

Alaan huffed, his hand pressing against his face.

"Well you heard our unofficial sixth admiral, she's coming..." Alaan sighed like a husband defeated.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

Joachim rarely had fears, but if he had one, it was his fear of this support-less tunnel collapsing on him.

Though Hanala and Martus assured him that the plasma heated the sand and dirt enough to make this tunnel supported by super strong glass, it still didn't bring comfort to him in the slightest. Man wasn't meant to be underground this deep, he figured. He did not voice that opinion however, the last thing he needed were a couple of quarians rolling their eyes at the primitive's childish fears.

"Is this ship intact?" Joachim asked to distract his nerves. Hanala turned back and smiled just for him.

"No, the forward sections seem to be on the continent of North America," she explained. "The engines somewhere in the Soviet Union, the majority if the ship crashed here though, but there are small pieces scattered across the planet."

Joachim nodded and felt Hanala's hand touch his, grabbing it firmly and squeezing it. She seemed very aware of his nervous behaviour. Ahead of the two of them, Martus'Xen stopped moving and turned back to his commander and the human.

"Look, there's the probe," he spoke, flashing the omni-tool light onto it as he added. "It looks like we broke into a cave of some sort... mind the gap..."

Together, Hanala and him jumped down the small pit and landed by the device, their flashlights spinning, and their rifles around as though the room was filled with hostiles before turning back to the humming probe. The probe was surprisingly small for the hole it managed to burrow. A machine half the size of a Kubelwagon burnt a hole big enough to have Hertzer's drive his tank into. Martus fell to his knees and waved his omni-tool over it. The center of the probe opened and Martus pulled out a long, cylindrical device. He waved his omni-tool over it; it came to life, shining brightly enough to illuminate the entire cave.

"A cave?" he doubted as he looked around.

Hanala shook her head, looking utterly amazed. This was no cave.

"Look at the pillars built, Joachim," Hanala gestured to what he assumed was simply rock extending high to the roof. "It's not a cave… it's man made. It seems like some sort of ritual grounds dedicated to the Prothean ship...this is so amazing!"

It didn't seem so amazing to him. It seemed kind of… wrong in a way he could not put his fingers on. Joachim glanced around; there were tatters of rags covering the walls, tapestries of some sort. The cave floor was littered with urns and skeletons left untouched for hundreds... no, _thousands_ of years. Although much of the cave was made of stone, the wall at the opposite side was a wall of black metal.

Martus laughed slightly at what the Captain had said.

"It's not surprising we would find this..." Martus spoke as he inspected the nearest skeletal remains. "Technology will always seem like magic to a simple mind…" he paused and for good measure, added. "…and no, Hoch, that wasn't directed to you."

Joachim scowled darkly at what the Navigator had snarled. Still chuckling, Martus paid no mind and stood up, looking around at the wall of steel. He reached into his bag, pulling out a bunch of flares to finish lighting the cave up.

"Look at this..." Hanala spoke, breaking the tension. "It appears that they sealed the entrance… a hole in the hull…"

Sharing a glare at one another, Martus and Joachim moved to where Hanala was standing and staring at the section of the cave. Sure enough there was a large block looking suspicious out of place. Between the cracks between the stone was a gleam of almost still polished metal.

"Well…" Joachim spoke to the two of them. "Are the two of you capable of upper body strength? Or does the _primitive_ have to do the work."

Martus rolled his eyes, Hanala merely smiled, her eyes traveling over his body before breaking her concentration and turning to the stone blocking their path into the ship.

Together the three of them grabbed the side of the heavy rock and with all their might pulled as though they were the Hebrew slaves of the Egyptians. The rock gave way as Joachim and Hanala still held their grips while Martus' slipped off. Groaning Martus pushed the back side of the rock, his back pressed against the door of the Prothean ship.

At least it was until the simple rock door collapsed and a thin skeleton collapsed right on top of Martus'Xen. The quarian let loose a high pitched scream

 _ **"Get it off me!"**_ Martus shrieked like a little girl.

He threw the body off himself and scattered away on the cave floor, wiping himself as though it would clean himself of the corpse. Amused, Joachim stepped away and knelled down next to the skeleton, his eyes wide as he examined what remained of the skeletonized human sprawled on the sandy stone floor.

"Joachim?" Hanala questioned, her voice nearly chirping.

Joachim paid no mind to Hanala's concerned whispers. His focus was solely held on the skeleton, clad in almost perfect Roman forged scale armour, somewhat rusty, but it looked as though it was used only a day prior, his hand still clutched his Gladius as though he was ready to do battle beyond the grave.

"He... he's was a Roman soldier... I mean… I _think_ he was a Roman soldier anyways…" Joachim whispered just loud enough for the others to hear. " _You poor bastard_... dying trapped behind stone..."

Though he may have been amazed and wondering why in the hell was one of ancient mankind's most efficient and deadliest warrior was doing trapped inside of this ship, the quarian lacked the same excitement as he had. For them, the real mystery was the vessel this poor soul was trapped inside of for a millennia or so.

"Come on, let's go." Hanala nearly commanded, her hand pulling Joachim back up away from the skeleton.

Straightening the skeleton out as though he had been his comrade, Joachim stood, giving the long since fallen warrior one last look. He sighed and together, Hanala, Martus and himself all shared a determined look between one another and together, the three of them marched into the Prothean ship.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

"Keep the lights together. It looks like we're near a command center of some kind."

Though well intentioned, Hanala's order was next to useless. It felt as though they had been walking miles their omni-tool flashlights were almost next to useless in this environment. It was light the ship wanted to be dark. It seemed to steal the light and not accept illumination in return, leaving the three of them stumbling in a darkness that only offered.

If discovering a corpse of a legionnaire at the door wasn't ominous enough, what design they could make out was that much more unnerving. It looked as though Satan designed it. For a race touted by all these spacefaring species as the fathers of their interstellar travel, the Protheans were beyond creepy in just how they designed their vessels.

"Wouldn't the command decks broken off in the crash?" Joachim asked aloud, more to himself then being genuinely curious. "You did point out there were other red zones holding bits of this ship."

A scoffing huff came from next to him.

"It's safe to assume that no self-respecting shipbuilder would dream of placing their command deck in the most vulnerable area of the ship instead of burying it deep inside for added safety." Martus grumbled to the ignorant human. "Only morons would choose sightseeing over protection."

Before Joachim could hit the Lieutenant with his rifle, a shriek emitted from Hanala, breaking the fight between the two men; she had tripped over something blocking her path. Joachim fell to her side and collected her into his arms, Hanala's arms wrapped around his neck. Through the light emitted by the omni-tools, he could make out the terrified expression on her face. Martus turned from his captain and shone a light on the obstruction. The quarian winced as he took it in, as did Joachim and Hanala.

"Keelah, it's a body... I think," Martus observed his expression grim.

Joachim stared at it faintly, his face contorted into horror. It looked human... but it was wrong, extremely wrong. It was thin, coated in a mass of wires and machinery. It stared blankly up at them, still clad in bits and pieces of roman armour.

"They're augmented with cybernetics, to the point of it ceasing being human at all…" Martus spoke up.

Watching as Martus' omni-tool waved over the body, both taking pictures and medical scans of the husk of what was once a human being, Joachim did all that he could to ignore the shiver running down his spine now. He tried to ignore the terribly paranoid feeling that was overwhelming his senses now. This place was wrong. It was so fucking wrong. It felt like someone was watching him.

It felt like something was talking to him…

"Come on, we're nearly there," Hanala spoke again, standing up with Joachim's help.

They would pay this warning no heed. They were nearly there. They continued on in silence, stepping blindly through the dark. Suddenly, Hanala yelped as her omni-tool erupted into static. She turned back to the two men, her eyes filled with an immeasurable excitement. She quickened the pace in the direction of the command deck. Martus and Joachim shared a look and followed after her, she was much too excited for her own good.

They climbed a small staircase and bumped into Hanala who was shining her light on the electronics in the room they were now in.

"Hanala?" Joachim questioned the curious acting woman. Hanala didn't reply at first, she seemed almost transfixed by the setup.

"Strange..." she finally marvelled aloud to him. "Its design doesn't corresponding with the ship. It looks like it was installed long after it was buil-"

The sound of vomit hitting the ground forced Hanala and Joachim's attention to the third member of the group. Martus was knelled over on the metal floor, staring into the pile of vomit, his chest heaving. He looked as though he was shaking with a stress they did not see before in him.

"Lieutenant... Martus, are you alright?" Hanala spoke, her hand touching against the fallen man. Martus batted her hand away and stood unsteadily back up.

"Yeah... just feeling queasy… I'll be... I'll be..." the Navigator admitted in a low moan and trailed off into a blank expression. His eyes glanced around the dark, not minding the lights on him. "I think... something's watching us."

They watched Martus's head twist around the room wildly, until finally, Joachim felt the exact same as Martus; not vomiting, but as though something was indeed watching them. Sure enough, from out of nowhere, the room was filled with a blood red light, the sudden illumination startling all three of them.

 _ **"Intruders detected…"**_ a voice spoke before vanishing again.

Joachim was officially frightened now. What the _hell_ was that?

"It's an intelligence of some sort!" Hanala marvelled, her mouth opened wide in surprise as she answered Joachim's unspoken question. "It's not quite an Artificial Intelligence... It's like a Brain stem... it keeps basic functions alive."

Joachim frowned at the remark as he glanced around the dark.

"But how?" he asked her. "Aren't the engines in Russia?"

 _ **"Internal power source collected by geothermal energy,"**_ the intelligence answered for the quarian _**"We lay and wait. Our solitude has been broken."**_

An avatar flickered briefly before the three of them. It was that of what Joachim assumed to be the ship. His mouth dropped open in a sudden, biting fear. The first time he felt fear since his father administered his biweekly corporal punishment upon him. If that was the ship then the only thing he could say was that it looked like the face of some goliath creature of ancient mythology.

Hanala was undeterred. He could see the excitement etched onto her face. How could he blame her? She had made contact with Prothean intelligence. Before she could find words, the red, blinking avatar vanished before their eyes, but in its places, the ships internal lights came to life.

"Who _are_ you?" Hanala called out to the room at large, looking for the avatar that vanished. "What do you _wait_ for? We are friends, we seek only to learn!"

Though Hanala was clearly drunk off the opportunity presented to her to advance her race, Martus and Joachim weren't. They peered around their lightened parameter. Surrounding them were hundreds of Roman skeletons, a virtual field of dead. Most of them covered in the ominous blue toned cybernetics, most still clad in decaying Roman legion armour.

Martus exhaled slowly... whatever this was, it was not good.

"Please, what do you wait for?" Hanala repeated, her voice nearly begging an answer now from the machine. Joachim reached over and grabbed the quarian woman, forcing her eyes to fall on the virtual field of fallen Romans scattered around them.

The machine answered; first with a low pitched whine, then with rumbling words.

 _ **"Our return."**_

Before Hanala could ask any more questions, The Dreadnought shook and emitted a sudden and deafening roar as though it was Hell itself trying to shred a hole out of the Earth. The three of them stumbled to the floor of the ship. All of them now officially panicked. They did not notice the electrical charge flying through the vessel, they did not notice as the ship powered up.

They did not notice as one by one, the long dead and heavily modified Roman Legionaries stood up from their graves.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Toned down some language, cleaned up a lot of extra bits, deleted one scene involving a flashback.**

 **Sorry for the delay, I have been sick for the past few days.**


	12. The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters

**Chapter Twelve: The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters**

...

The derelict Prothean dreadnought roared.

At first Hanala was unable to comprehend what was happening. She was far too focused on what this ship spoke about with such contempt in its robot voice. _They wait for a return_? What return?

Whatever that meant would have to wait, Hanala felt Joachim's hand grab her and turn her around. Hanala's mouth opened as she watched in unfathomable terror as the dead stood from their resting place. They were a horrifying sight of preserved dead flesh, their arms raised up as they screamed their sword weapons pointing in the direction of three of them.

"What are we going to do?!" Martus finally found his voice, frightened as the monsters seemed to try to get their senses working once more.

Joachim answered the question by raising his rifle and firing on the closest of the monsters, forcing the husk corpse to stagger backwards in place.

" _ **RUN!**_ " He simply screamed at the two of them.

Hanala and Martus could not have possibly agreed more with Hoch at that moment.

Raising their rifles and submachine guns and shooting at absolutely anything that stood. The three of them bolted firing and panicking as the two quarians and the human realized that their weapons just did not hit hard combination of old, somewhat preserved plate armour and cybernetics that were beyond anything Hanala seen before.

The ship roared once again, so hard that the footing beneath them shook as though the planet's tectonic plates were shifting just underneath them. The three of them staggered and continued running down the path they took back out to the temple.

This time however, the ship was awake; its lights were on, revealing just how many of these monsters were still lying dormant, one by one being awakened by the Virtual Intelligence. The monsters screamed, clanging their swords against the ground and their shield as they rushed the three of them.

Some of them fell to their bullets, most of them merely staggered, absorbing the rounds. There wasn't much choice to keep running.

One of the monsters jumped out in front of them. Joachim acted first and did not stop running as the stock of his rifle slammed into the creatures face, making out scream and crumple to the floor. Combing her fire with Martus, Hanala flashed her omni-tool to life which had mapped the path they took.

"Straight ahead for another kilometer, then we turn left!" she screamed over top the gunfire.

Hurling a grenade to cover their tracks, Joachim nodded and together the three of them continued their sprint, all of them hoping beyond hope that they would make it back to the surface in one piece, all of them hoping that Hertzer and his Tiger would be there by now. They needed to whatever this was from spilling out onto the surface.

...

* * *

...

" _ **Intruders have disturbed the solitude of our wait. Hibernation cycle cancelled. Drone lifeforms deployed."**_

The words spoken by the AI buried in the Prothean ship somehow amplified the fear levels up even higher. Why did she do this? Why did she allow her damn foolish pride to drag them here? Joachim and Martus were right to be furious with her. Galas was killed because she wanted to drag everyone off to visit a place not even her greatest nightmares could concoct.

But they were almost out now. They would escape and make sure that no quarian or human would follow in their footsteps. This place was an irredeemably evil and needed to be orbital bombarded for three straight weeks until this shipwreck was nothing but a large hole leading to the Earth's inner core.

"Turn left, one hundred meters to the exit!" she screamed as they reached the four way corridor. She shot down one of the corpses hissing.

Before they could, the hallway was suddenly alight with the noise of hissing gunfire in front of them. The three of them ducked into the closest cover they could find - what looked like a fallen support beam. Hanala and Joachim returned fire while Martus did his utmost to keep the screaming husks coming behind them and their cover at bay.

Hanala peered over the cover and took a look at one of the monsters shooting at them. It looked like some sort of reptilian insectoid creature with many eyes. Twisted beyond what was likely its true species much as the humans had been. Hanala watched as it lowered its rifle suddenly and stood up.

" _ **Direct intervention is necessary. Assuming control."**_

They watched in horror as the lead bug creature screamed and was metamorphosed before their very eyes. It grew twice as big and was coated in a golden light that appeared to be some sort of shield.

They didn't bother to even try to fight it. Joachim simply threw a grenade over their cover, forcing the creatures to duck. They ran, escaping the overwhelming fire directed at them as they dodged between the husks. They were fifty meters from the exit. They needed a plan that involved making sure that none of these monsters escaped from this tomb.

"Shit, I'm out of grenades!" Joachim screamed out to the group.

Hanala didn't think. In a split second, she reached into her bandoleer and pulled out a grenade of her own. She followed the instructions. She unscrewed the bottom and tugged the cord to ignite the fuse. Not bothering to wait for the fuse to burn, she threw it as hard as she could at the monsters.

Unfortunately, one of the husks caught it and charged at them.

Hanala widened her eyes.

Before she could react, before she could comprehend how close death was, Joachim shoved her aside and charged the Husk.

The grenade exploded.

...

* * *

...

Hanala opened her eyes and groaned as the sound of screaming forced her back to reality quickly. The voice was familiar, and it sent her into a panic.

It was Joachim.

Sure enough Joachim laid there on the ground, his face pale as he screamed at the top of his lungs, his remaining arm flailing out, trying to find his blasted apart twin. He paid no attention to anything other the finding the bloody mess that remained of his arm, nothing but shattered bone, bits of flesh and shredded muscle spattered across the metal interior of the ship.

Hanala pulled Joachim back as Martus snatched up Joachim's rifle and pulled his combat harness carrying all of the rifle's spare ammunition. He shot down one of the dead humans. Still Joachim struggled against her, his eyes wide and wild.

" _I need it... I need it... I need... I need...it... I need it..._ " he cried as his still good hand struggled to grab what remained of his the bits and pieces of his mangled separated arm.

Giving one good jerk, Hanala pulled the sobbing Joachim away from what remained of him on the ground, dragging him as he screamed and fought to get what he left behind in a display of blood loss induced irrationality.

Metal walkways turned into dirt, rock and sand. They made it; they were outside in the Prothean worship site. Before Hanala had a chance to thank the Ancestors, she was shoved out of the way by Martus, whose belt was in his hand. Without so much as a warning to Joachim, Martus knelled onto his stump, the act caused another scream from the near incoherent human.

"I'll relish in your agony once we're safe..." Martus muttered as he wrapped the belt around his wound as an improvised tourniquet. The ship roared again, and dirt and dust collapsing from the room around them. The one of the corpsed stepped out of the ship and screamed, forcing the two of them to turn from the human and fire on the creature until it slumped in the doorway.

"Captain, get over here!"

Hanala looked from the monster and found that Martus was gesturing to the probe. She nodded and wrapped her free hand around Joachim's massive frame, dragging the moaning, incoherent human to where Martus was holding back the bugs with guns back.

Shooting down one of the creatures he turned to his captain.

"I'm charging the laser drill. When I say so, you stick his stump in the barrel!" Martus directed the Captain as though he were in charge.

Hanala's eyes widened at the desperate measure presented by Martus. Had he lost his mind?! She was about to protest him when Martus grabbed the front of her uniform and pulled the woman right into his face.

"Do you want him to bleed out?! Do you want him to die?!" He screamed at her, making her flinch at his unbridled rage. He gestured to Joachim's bleeding stump and added "The tunnel is over five hundred meters long, we're three days drive back to Tripoli. The tourniquet's not going to work for long and I don't have time to redo it over and over again!"

Exhaling, Hanala agreed with him with a simple nod. With that, Martus pushed her back to face the monsters and together the two of them placed themselves and the delirious Joachim barrel of the mining laser and took aim at the hull gap and the monsters pouring out. The two of them fired at the creatures as the singlefiled out without any sort of fear or second thought, however it was enough to force the monsters backwards into the ship for a few moments. It was just long enough for the pair of them to hear the hum and heat coming off the charged probe.

"Now!" Martus yelled out.

Hanala dropped her rifle,she lifted Joachim up to the. Ignoring his screams, she grabbed what remained of his bicep and shoved Joachim's stump into the superheated mining laser barrel.

The effect was instantaneous. Joachim screamed even higher as his wound closed and was burned to a sickening black. Hanala pulled him back, batting the flames engulfing his clothing and burning his flesh. The screams subsided and Joachim went limp. Hanala allowed a sob to escape as she shakily opened her omni-tool, not paying attention to Martus'Xen as he fired the mining drill, melting dozens of the human monsters.

Scanning his body, it was clear that Joachim was slowly going into shock. She did not have time to confirm it as Martus grabbed Joachim's jacket.

"Come on, Captain!"

Hanala nodded once again. Together they dragged Joachim up to the tunnel and back to the surface. They were close to the exit, but even now the he monsters were too close to them.

They were almost to the surface. Less than one hundred meters left until they reached the open Libyan desert. Perhaps Hertzer was there. They would need him to stop all of those bastards chasing them, the bugs, the undead, whatever horrors that waited down there.

She looked at Joachim. He wasn't in shock like she assumed, if he was then it was mild. He was however knocked out, a state that Martus would have reviled in had it not been for the precarious situation they were trapped in.

"It's Captain Jarva, covering fire!"

The barking of rifle fire that easily cut down the monsters chasing them, the familiar environmental suits, it was the Migrant Fleet Marines. Keelah, things were getting better and worse by each meter they moved up the tunnel.

Better because they were near the surface, better because a platoon of Marines were covering their retreat, better because the roar of Hertzer's Tiger approached them, positioning itself aiming down the tunnel. They got out of its way and the Panzer opened fire, adding to the volley.

Though things looked up, there was one thing that made it worse. The Marines presence meant one thing: The Admirals were here.

 _Father_ was here.

The Marines allowed the three of them to pause, filling the gap they made with more rifle fire down on the monsters making another suicidal charge against them. Hanala imagined that the monsters were quite fine with dying. Their service beyond death to a virtual intelligence would at long last be over.

"Daughter, get in!"

Hanala turned her head from Joachim and to the source of the voice shouting through the gunfire of both the quarian marines and Hertzer's Tiger. It was Father standing in the doorway, directing what looked like the leader of the marine unit. She turned her head away and glanced back down to the shaking body in her arms. Hanala wiped her eyes and took in another deep breath.

"We're almost there, Joachim. We're almost safe."

Dragging his body along until she hit the transport, she felt hands grab her, pulling her up into the ship. She turned back, it was father _and_ mother. Hanala pulled away from them and stood on her own accord, pulling Joachim up with her and resting him on the floor of the ship, her lap used as a pillow for the extremely wounded man. Her hand grazed against his pale, bruised skin. She paid no mind to her parent's careful stares at their only child, or to the watching eyes of her grandmother. She did however look up when she saw Martus'Xen enter the ship.

"Xen, take the second ship to where we were being held," Hanala directed to her last remaining man under her command. "Hoch's superiors need to know about the Admiralty's arrival."

Father nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly before turning back to one of the admirals in the transport. It was the newest member of the board.

"Admiral Zorah and a team of Marines will be joining him," Father added. It's time we make official contact with them."

The Admiral known as Halid'Zorah nodded and stepped out of the transports, following the suddenly nervous looking Xen, who would be shepherding an Admiral back to Austria. Hanala however called out to Xen and Zorah as they headed towards the second transport.

"Do not leave yet!" she called out to them. There are more humans to evacuate. Take them with you!"

Martus glanced at the Tiger, which fired another shot and nodded. As much of a bastard as he might have been more often than not, he knew when he was in someone's debt.

Leaving Joachim with her confused father and her mother, both of whom stared on the human with a curiosity shielded by their masks, Hanala grabbed the nearest marine officers rifle and leap back out of the transport, Combining her fire on the undead along with Hertzer and the marines, she took cover behind the heavy tank.

Killing a Roman charging at her with its short sword, Hanala jumped onto the back of the Tiger and slowly climbed over it until she reached the hatch. Pulling the hatch open and popping his head out, Hertzer looked at her ashen faced, his pistol raised at her briefly before relenting, his face contorted into surprise.

"Jarva? What the hell is happening down there? I thought you idiots were mining!" he hissed as he dropped the pistol back down into his holster.

"I'll explain later." she dismissed, gesturing to the tunnel and added, "You need to collapse the tunnel! You're sitting on half a tonne of explosives. You need to do something!"

It took Dieter Hertzer less than five seconds to come up with a plan.

"Everyone, get out of my fucking tank." Hertzer ordered his crew... "I'm wedging Sigrid."

The sudden waves of protests from the panzer crew were silenced as the screams of one of the undead pulled itself up the side of the Tiger. Hanala swung around and shot it until it slumped onto the vehicle.

Hanala turned back and found that one by one, the human crew climbed out of the tank. The final one was the scar faced radio operator, who turned back and pulled Heinrich Fuhrmann from out of hatch. He groaned, his hand clutching his side. Hanala allowed the young giant a slight reassuring smile. He turned his head and looked on the quarian dead in the eyes.

"Where's Herr Hoch?"

Her smile faltered.

"He's coming with me..." she finally admitted as she helped the young man off the tank. "He's been hurt bad... We'll be taking care of him."

Fuhrmann didn't reply, he simply bowed his head as the radio operator and Tiger driver dragged Fuhrmann towards Zorah and Xen, who were ushering the humans into their craft. She turned back and felt the tank suddenly moving. Hertzer was driving it deeper into the wide tunnel.

The tiger swerved, its frontal armour banging into the glass wall forcing Hanala to sway, Hanala gripped onto the turret MG-34 for support and swivelled it to face down the tunnel. Cocking the machine gun, she fired on everything that approached. Hertzer backed the heavy tank up, like before, he banged it into the tunnel, and a hundred tonnes of pressure cracked the grass.

Suddenly the turn moved, raising high and taking aim at the roof of the tunnel. Hanala flinched as the heavy cannon exploded, hitting the roof of the tunnel with enough force that it cracked hard, splintering the glass.

"Jarva, give me a grenade!" he screamed up through the roaring of the tank and the cries of the undead approaching them. Hanala obliged, her shaking hands threw an unignited stick grenade down the hatch for Hertzer.

Hertzer fired another round, this time the explosion broke through, forcing the glass to slowly give way to the pressure of tens of thousands of tonnes of sand and rock weighed on it. Hertzer scrambled out of the Tiger, the grenade in his hand. He armed the explosive and threw it into the back of the panzer where the ammunition cache was held.

The two of them scrambled off the tank and out of the tunnel. The Tank ignited as ammunition cache blew up, speeding the shattering of the glass mineshaft.

Hanala watched as the tunnel collapsed, burying the horrors back under the sand.

The question now was for how long? The admirals would undoubtedly want to open this site up again. She turned and saw that Hertzer was standing still, his cap over his chest as he stood watching the tunnel finished collapsing. His eyes were glazed in mist.

"Sigrid, my love... I'm so sorry... I should have treated you better," he moaned, drying his eyes as though he lost a relative or a wife.

As Martus wandered over to collect a grieving Hertzer, Hanala shook her head and climbed back into the transport, batting her father's hand away from her shoulder as she sat back down on the deck of the ship, cradling Joachim, unable to turn away from the lost arm that still smoked from the quick cauterization.

"Hanala, come here... tell me what happen?!" Mother nearly cried. "Why would you do something so foolish as come here?!"

Hanala glanced over and found her mother now over Joachim, her hands extended, trying to pull her daughter from the faintly breathing human laying in her lap. Inwardly she scowled at her mother's near childish treatment of her considering not half an hour ago they were fighting creatures buried in the sands of Earth that had no business being there.

"I came here because I tricked the rest into following me," she muttered mutinously. "Please mother, I'm not in the mood for a lecture. I am a captain-"

Admiral Vaerhit, who had been sitting quietly with Admiral Utala'Falan suddenly laughed.

"After this gross violation of our orders, you will not be a Captain for long, Jarva," Vaerhit sneered at the younger woman. "You will lucky to make it out of this safe from _exile_."

Hanala glared and did her utmost not to do what Joachim would have done: punch his face in. She looked to father to see if she had her back. Father narrowed his eyes. It was all she needed to know about where he stood in this. She turned away, her attention directed once agains back to the wounded man she was cradling.

"Well now," Father started. " We will be discussing your liberal interpretation of our orders in the near futur-."

"I don't care, Father," Hanala interrupted as she used her sleeve to keep more blood from flowing from Joachim's neck. "Take us home, back to the fleet. He needs our help."

For the first time, Father acknowledged the human's presence as he was being cradled by his daughter. He did not seem particularly pleased about this in the slightest. Hanala exhaled and slowly, she looked up to stare into her father's eyes.

"He saved my life, Father," she pressed on before he could make a protest. "I'm not about to hand him over to their doctors. Who are little better thanbutchers; not when there is something we can do. "

Wiping Joachim blood pooling from his nose, she shook her head and turned up to Vaerhit.

"Captaincy be damned," she whispered to herself.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Extensive formatting changes over this chapter. I tried to explore a non linear style. It didn't work. I fixed it, A shit ton of errors I doubt I will ever get. This is easily the worst edited part in the story. This chapter and the next two are the reasons why I wish I had time to sit dow and do a total rewrite.**

 **In the mean time, if you like femtur material, I have a couple more in the planning stages.**


	13. Welcome To The Migrant Fleet, Herr Hoch

**Chapter Thirteen: Welcome To The Migrant Fleet, Joachim Hoch**

 **…**

Hanala opened her eyes blearily, her mind drenched in painkillers and sleeping medication to help her banish the thoughts fuelling her nightmares.

A week. It had been a week since they accidentally wandered into Hell.

The past week was a complete blur to her, featuring Hoch, Hanala being placed into quarantine for their brief but violent encounter in the Prothean ship. Countless medical and psychological examinations, questions from each of the admirals, her father, her grandmother, each interrogation was worse and more strenuous then the next. At the moment, the decision was being made to suspend her from active duty indefinitely for her actions.

She didn't care. She knew that she should have, but something inside of her felt so fundamentally different than before, and it had to do with whatever it was going on in that dreadnought.

She felt so... wrong, her mind was clouded with a thousand voices and fears she never realized she had, she felt the voices of all of her crew were among them, accusing her of being directly involved in their deaths, destroying their families because of her inability to keep her damn ship in one piece. She felt Galas'Yoad in the back of her mind, accusing her of getting him killed for her arrogance.

Keelah, she was losing it...

As Hanala tried to stop the thoughts from flooding anymore of her thoughts, she heard two pairs of footsteps moved by her bed, not paying mind to her change in state of consciousness. They wandered away from her and instead stood over the other occupant of the medical bay.

Joachim Hoch.

He was going to freak once he found out where he was. He was over three hundred and fifty thousand kilometers away from his home world, the ship lingering on the far side of the Earth moon. Hanala barely registered that Joachim was now officially the first human in space. Once the shock wore off, it would undoubtedly swell his ego even higher than it already was.

Hanala rolled in her bed and painfully faced Joachim Hoch, mostly covered in blankets and with two white suited quarian nurses swooning over him like he was the latest source of fascination to these women.

"You know," the first nurse mused, her voice playful as she held her eyes on her patient. "I think I can sympathize with how the men felt when they were first contacted by the asari."

The two women giggled silently; unaware of the seething anger coursing through the quarian woman whom they assumed was still in a drug induced sleep. Thinking one of their hands grazing over their patent in an unprofessional manner Hanala bristled with an offended anger that she hadn't felt... well… ever, really.

 _"That's quite enough,"_ she grumbled out to them.

The two women turned back and bounced slightly at the edged voice calling the two of them out so suddenly. Each of them wore guilty expressions as they stared down on the shorter sitting woman watching them.

"Oh Captain... You're awake," The nurse chirped excitedly, still bouncing slightly. "Sorry, I did not mean to offend."

Rubbing her eyes, Hanala shook her head. As much as she wanted to hit the two of them, she could not. Any personal feelings or... possessiveness she may have felt was not for the eyes of the fleet. Not until humanity and quarians knew of each other's existence. Her actions in the desert had to remain out there. Any sort of public display of affection was impossible.

"You didn't," she mumbled. "Just... just go."

The nurses shared a look that clearly said that her secret wasn't a secret in the slightest. They did however oblige her and start to leave. As they did so, one of the nurses paused and turned back to smile at the Captain, who had managed to pull herself back up to her feet.

"We administered an end to his chemical sleep a few hours ago," she informed Hanala. "He should be regaining consciousness soon."

Hanala did not acknowledge the remark and stood there waiting until the nurse left and closed the door behind them. Groaning to herself, she buried her hand in her face as embarrassment overwhelmed her senses. Quarians were a very social people and considering her position in the fleet: A captain, her parents, her grandmother, her family in general was influential. It would be only a matter of time before the nurses spilled Hanala's reaction to the rest of the ship.

Hanala moved slowly over to were the two nurses stood over Joachim. Her hands latched together, nervously winging as she watched the human start to stir.

Joachim was in a terrible state. Covered in bruises, lacerations and burns, his flesh peppered with shrapnel wounds from a grenade that she mishandled. His state was her fault, she was frightened of the monsters and threw a primitive grenade much too late, and now Joachim was paying for it.

Hanala expected that he would not forgive her so quickly. Maybe one day, but certainly not for quite a while.

A cough forced Hanala's focus back to his face. Joachim was awake, his head rolling back and forth as though he was in a state of confusion. Hanala reached down and silently touched him, forcing him to turn and see her. He turned his head, showing his commanding blue eyes to be glossed over by the drugs flowing through him.

" _Han-ala?_ " was his groggily spoken question.

Blinking way the water building her eyes , caused by the relief that Joachim was going to be alright, Hanala nodded, trying to smile brightly just for him.

"Joachim, I'm so _sorry_ ," she whispered, her head burying in his neck. She winced as he heard Joachim hiss as the pressure of an upset quarian woman caught him off guard.

"What... for..." he mumbled, the narcotics provided by the humans taking a serious toll on his state of mind. It was clear as day that once relations were established between the two races, quarians would have to teach humans how to produce a non-opiate based pain management suppressants.

Pulling her head up, Hanala reached under the cover, her hand instantly finding Joachim's. She squeezed it as she sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. She watched him as he smiled lazily for her, his eyes half open, half wanting to go back to sleep.

Deciding against her better judgment, she leaned in, her thin lips grazing against his.

"This... you being here..." she breathed, pulling herself back up. Her eyes avoided his as she ran one hand through her hair, the other squeezing his forearm covered in blankets.

"Where is here? Austria?" he breathed, ginning slightly as though he was happy to finally be out of that desert.

Hanala exhaled slowly before finally working up the courage to shake her head.

"We.. Well, we're in orbit around the Earth's moon," she finally admitted out loud to him.

In a matter of a microsecond, any narcotic haze Joachim allowed to control him instantly vaporized. His silly smirk was gone; replacing it was a multitude of expressions, scepticism, shock, fear and a sudden shake of his head in denial of the truth Hanala had told him.

"How _dare_ you lie to me," he growled as he struggled to pull himself up out of his bed. Though his mind was cleared of the narcotic effects, his body was not. It was much too medicated to force it into responding to his demands.

Hanala sighed, touching his cheek briefly before standing up and stepping to the observation window covered in shutters. She swiped her hand over the interface, opening the metal blinds and revealing the blue and green jewel shimmering against the local star's solar radiation.

Joachim's mouth dropped open as he lost all sense of control.

He screamed.

 _ **"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"**_ he shrieked as he attempted get out of bed.

Hanala flinched at the pure spitting rage flowing from the human, who was baring his teeth menacingly at the quarian.

"You were hurt... you were _hurt_ so bad..." Hanala managed to speak through the guilt pounding through her barriers. "You almost died; I needed to take you to my home. I-I had to _save_ you, Joachim... I _needed_ to save you. It was my fault... it was my entire damn fault... I-I shouldn't have thrown that grenade... You saved my life and in turn... I-I..."

The last word forced the drugged Joachim to pry open his eyes wide at the remark, His eyes darted all over her face demanding an answer to her. As much as Hanala wanted to say something, anything to explain the reason why he now sat nearly on the Earth's Moon, and how that this was all her fault, she just could not find the right words.

She did not have any words to comfort him. Instead she simply pulled back the blanket covering him. She winced at the fresh scars he had earned because of her.

Those scars however were nothing compared to the real injury he suffered. The injury she had been trying to pretend didn't occur over the past few days.

His left arm was gone. It was completely gone.

Well... not quite, replacing it was an arm made of plastics, metal and cybernetics connected to the muscle tissue in what remained of his bicep, lying to the brain that the arm he lost was still attached. It did not help that they had no time to make him a customized human arm and hand... that would come eventually, for now he would make due with a thin arm with three fingers at his disposal.

For now, however Joachim was clearly not fine with it. He stared at it like it had been out of a horror or a science run amok vid. He looked close to having a fit as struggled to breathe, let along say something, anything about his augmentation.

"I... I know it must be odd, but I swear that it'll be temporary," Hanala quickly assured him, her voice quivering with the reaction building in Hoch as she spoke. "It'll stay on until our augmentation specialists design and create a human replica instead."

Joachim paid no mind to her as he slowly rolled his fingers into a fist. Suddenly, he laughed, he laughed like a man possessed.

"I'm just like my father now!" He nearly screamed with an insane delirium drowning his words.

Joachim collapsed under the weight of the morphine drip, fainting back to sleep. Hanala could not have been happier for that to happen. His rage was far too great for her to handle.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Watching Earth like she once did from her own ship, Hanala took a drag from one of Joachim's, his gold case gripped tightly in one of her hands as she stared blankly on the world with a wonder that she kept hidden. She had never been on a planet before Earth; there seemed so much to see in the short time she stayed a guest in Joachim's care. She knew it was unlikely she would see most of the planet until the war was over.

Until then, she would be content with wherever Joachim could take her... well that was if the Admirals allowed her back to the planet during whatever negotiations.

It seemed like the newest Admiral of the Board would take her place. Admiral Halid'Zorah, a fair better choice as a voice of her people than she could ever be. He was a decidedly level headed Admiral who could answer the humans' questions and knows when it was best not to. They spoke briefly when he came back to the fleet, his arms holding a parcel giving to him by Joachim's friend and superior officer, Langer. It was Joachim's dress uniform, right down to a holster and his pistol.

Hanala turned from the window and inspected the uniform that she carefully laid out on her bed and smiled slightly... She didn't think he would mind it too much if she tried it out... just this once. It wouldn't fit her, but she was sure it wouldn't be too terrible.

Stripping the medical gown from off her body, Hanala quickly pulled on the dress pants, the undershirt, the suspenders, the tailor made grey jacket, sporting all of his many medals proudly for conflicts she had no idea happened but wanted to hear them all from his lips. She fought the small buttons, but they attached eventually after several attempts she pulled on the gloves, the socks and with a great struggle, the boots. She closed her eyes and took a drag of her cigarette as she carefully placed his high visor officer cap over her head. Finally she attached her holster belt and daintily held the primitive looking sidearm in her hand.

Placing the weapon in the belt holster, she took a careful step back and looked into her reflection shining in the observation window. Ignoring the baggiest of wearing the clothing of a man several heads taller than she, she thought that looked damn good.

Grinning as she took a drag of her cigarette for full effect, she placed her sternest face possible and puffed out her chest.

"Pick up the pace, Lieutenant Xen or I'll have you shot!" she snapped, doing her utmost to mimic Joachim's all business command style.

She tilted her head back to the roof and for the first time in what felt like months, she laughed. She needed that more than she thought.

 _"Hana?"_

Hanala froze at the raspy voice pet name giving to her by her grandmother whey she was just a little girl. Suddenly very conscious about wearing Joachim's surprisingly snug uniform, she turned back and found that both Mother and Grandmother Jalina'Calis standing there watching her. Mother was staring blank in confusion, her grandmother, on the other hand, appeared amused.

"Daughter... I trust you're feeling well?" Mother spoke, her voice hiding the curiosity.

Hanala rolled her eyes at her mother's stiff attitude. She stubbed out her cigarette and turned to find her mother was glaring at her with a menace that few people walked away unscathed from. She sighed, perhaps she shouldn't have screamed at mother when she was busy cradling a severely wounded Joachim in her arms, right in front of Father, mother, three admirals and a dozen marines.

By and large, Mother was a tough woman; it was bound to happen when her three brothers died in failed offensives against the geth. The pain though so great and deeply buried was nothing compared to the older woman sitting quietly by Joachim's side, her hands held tightly together.

For her Grandmother, Hanala allowed her a smile.

Grandmother Jalina lost everything to the geth exterminations and wars. Her husband, her parents, siblings, an entire extended family… she escaped the extermination with her three sons and Hanala's mother still inside her. How she managed it was beyond Hanala's comprehension. She supposed Grandmother Jalina kept going for the last of their race; her pursuit for a home appeared to be her last great task.

And now she found it. Just out of their reach… Earth.

These were undoubtedly the last days for her Grandmother. Hanala hated the thought, hated the concept of losing a woman whom had been there through everything... To have her leave now and join the Ancestors was unthinkable, absolutely unthinkable.

Giving Mother a sideways smile, Hanala pushed herself out of bed and joined her Grandmother by Joachim's side, her hand taking the old admirals. Jalina glanced up and smiled slightly.

"Tell me about him," Grandmother rasped, glancing to her granddaughter with a pride she rarely witnessed.

Hanala was only too glad to oblige.

"His name is Joachim Hoch." She introduced, gesturing to him. "He's in a special section of the armed forces of German Reich. He's arrogant, He takes survival of the fittest too an extremity... But he's... I don't know... conflicted about things. He does not like to fight, though you would not know it if you saw him fight or ended up on his bad side."

Though busy inspecting Joachim's clothing on Hanala's body, Mother looked up alarmed at her admission.

"Have you?" Mother called out, her arms crossed as she listened to her daughter.

Hanala smirked lightly and nodded.

"First Contact..." she admitted, earning a light smile from Grandmother. "We killed a few of his men after a misunderstanding. He sneaked into our perimeter and beat me up."

Mother gasped, her eyes glaring at the human. Once more, Hanala shook her head to placate her mother's temper.

"Well I stabbed him… so we're even," she stated with a slight self-satisfaction.

She listened to mother's slight gasp with mild amusement.

"He has a family... Well, not really," she corrected herself; she held her eyes over him. "Another global war twenty or so years ago killed his brothers... he never got to see them. His father was killed by occupation forces, his mother and him haven't spoken in nearly a decade."

Hanala suddenly laughed, despite the grimness of Joachim's family life.

"He's funny..." Hanala continued on, her voice filled with wonder as she stared down to the human fondly. "He doesn't joke often... he sticks more to sarcasm and can make a quarian who thinks themselves more superior to him feel really lousy."

She paused, biting her lip as her hands touched against the edge of the bed, only inches from Joachim's. She paid Mother and grandmother no mind as they watched her curiously. It was like they thought that she had lost her mind or something in that nature.

"Other than my family... I think he may be the only person who seems to treat me fairly..." Hanala softly spoke, her lips forming a slight smile as her hand touched against his. "He encourages, he comforted me when I was homesick, but he isn't afraid to tell me when I'm acting like a Bosh'tet."

The hand on Hanala's shoulder fell off her. Mother took a step back. Slowly she glanced between her daughter and the primitive in a deep sleep. Hanala turned to face mother, trying her best to keep her temper from exploding, just as her mother was doing the same.

Mother _knew_.

Mother knew and she did not like that in the slightest.

Standing in front of Joachim as though protecting him from the rage and potential murder at the hands of her mother, Hanala stared upon her defiantly.

"Look at you," Mother found her voice. "Beaten up, your crew dead, you wear his uniform and to make this worse you talk like someone who's in love. Do you realize how silly you look? How _stupid_ you have acted?"

It felt like a slap to the face for her as Hanala absorbed her mother's angry words. She could not find her voice, even if she could, what could she possibly say to defend herself without descending to a lot of profanity and never speaking to her mother again.

Shaking and blinking away the mist in her eyes, Hanala bowed her head slightly. With a slight hiss, Mother turned away and headed out the door. She paused however slowly turning back to her daughter.

"Why couldn't you be more like _Rael_?" Mother asked of her, less fire in her voice but still edged with disappointment as she added. "Rael has his priorities straight, his people 's survival comes first, not some stupid hunt for a ship, not for some _human_ that in all likely is using you for his own means, just as you did to him..."

Mother paused, her rant and shook her head, inhaling and exhaling sharply as she finally turned back to Hanala.

"I do not know where I failed with you..." she concluded, her disappointment with Hanala clear. "But I did. I failed you at some point, and I am so sorry about that."

With Hanala's confidence shattered so soundly by less than a hundred words spoken by her mother, she left, leaving Hanala and Grandmother in silence that was near unbreakable and very awkward. Breaking her self-contained state, she turned to see Grandmother Jalina try to stand from her seat. Hanala moved back to her, helping her elder out of her seat, only to have Jalina wrap her arms around her and pulled Hanala into a silent hug,

Doing her utmost not to sob like a child, Hanala maintained her control and broke the hug, her gloved hands clutching the Admirals. Her hallow expression formed an equally hollow reassuring smile.

"Hanala, she had no right to speak to you in that way," her Grandmother tried to begin.

Hanala merely shook her head.

"Yes, she had every right to. I'm fine Grandmother; she's just speaking out of anger," Hanala flat out lied to her as she escorted her to the door. "Just go and see to her, please... Mother needs you."

Reluctantly, Grandmother obliged her child. Without any more words, she simply kissed her cheek and tiptoed out or the hospital room, leaving Hanala with an unconscious Joachim and the desire to cry.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _ **"Auntie Han!"**_

As she wandered the hall to join Joachim once again after she decided she needed to stretch her legs, Hanala turned back and found that her legs no longer belonged to her.

A pair of small arms captured them; an equally small head was pressed into her thigh. It was Saleb, her brother's daughter, her niece. She bristled, ignoring the masculine version of her name, taught to her by her Bosh'tet brother who always found a way to make Hanala as miserable as possible. Apparently it was brothers did according to grandmother, who had siblings once and three sons of her own.

The aunt knelled down, her arms wrapped tightly around the five year old child. She had grown so much since her deployment. She was a full head taller easily by Hanala's observation.

Hanala released her grip on the child and carefully examined her from head to toe. She had a darker complexion, she got it from her mother it seemed, her eyes were much brighter than Veyare's however, taking her father's bright tone.

Slowly the aunt smiled to her niece, albeit wearily.

"Hello, my Saleb, I have not seen you in such a long time," she greeted kissing both of her cheeks. "How have you been?"

Saleb shuffled bashfully in her Auntie's arms.

"Good..." she admitted as she carefully looked up to her Aunt. "Father says you're in trouble. Why?"

Hanala did not offer the child anything other sign then a smile, despite fuming about how unfairly they were looking on what she did.

"I'm in trouble because I didn't listen to your Grandfather and Great Grandmother," Hanala confessed.

 _"Isn't that a surprise?"_

The voice was deep and sarcastic; Hanala winced and looked up from the girl in her arms. It was Captain Rael'Jarva vas Lienav, his wife, Veyare'Jarva standing several feet behind her husband, almost afraid to approach her battered and potentially ill sister-in-law. Hanala stood up, her hands still holding little Saleb's shoulders as she turned her focus up to her brother,

"I'm not going to get sick now am I _, Princess of the Fleet_?" he pressed, his mouth forming a mild grin for his sister. "You were exposed in an alien environment right?"

Hanala crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. So it began. The teasing, the rivalry shared unknowingly between a brother whom everyone loved and a sister whom everyone wished was conceived days after the one child policies were enacted with her abortion occurring not long afterwards. Her birth alone was fuel for the assumption that she lived a life of privilege.

Rael may have had all the same privileges as she did growing up, but apparently, he made it up to the masses by being selflessly devoted to his people, being the peoples representative, regardless of whether they were members of his crew or not. He was a man who would give up his own rations to others whenever he could.

Hanala on the other hand, was derisively called the _Princess of the Fleet_. Though her brother was naïve about the connotations, it was a term used to look down on her, because she had two admirals in the family, a community representative mother, a brother who made Captain by twenty-six... and here all she wanted to be was a dancer, someone who kept the traditions of their people alive. Useless, decadence according to most, time wasted and better served in the military, a place she had no desire to be in the first place.

Well… Eventually she relented; she allowed them to push her into begging her father to allow a captaincy place for her. That was her first mistake. Apparently it meant that another person would lose their spot.

Her second mistake was acquiring the _Devoas_. The fleet needed scout ships for the Uplift project and she needed a ship when she graduated. When the people found out she had gotten a ship paid for by her father they nearly mutinied.

Her third mistake was that she signed on to watch the humans. It was and still was a secret mission that not many quarians knew of. She figured it would help provide a permanent home for their people. She still felt that way but it was clear as day that she would be constantly ostracized for her decision by short term thinkers. They wanted her to be like her brother; volunteering selflessly as usual for defending the civilian fleet.

"Hello... Han?" Rael echoed his daughters greeting. Hanala winced and looked up from

"It's fine from Saleb to call me that, Rael. Not from you, so be nice," Hanala greeted her brother with a slap to his shoulder and a kiss on his cheek. She turned to look over his shoulder and added "Hello, Veyare, I trust you are well?"

Veyare smiled nervously at the very battered looking sister-in-law and stepped forward taking her place by her Captain, her husband's side. She leaned in and pulled Hanala into a friendly hug for the younger Hanala, who tried to smile as brightly as she did.

"Hanala, I am so happy you're here, back home and safe," Veyare welcomed as she pulled back, still with a warm smile for her. "Mother has been in a panic since you stopped reporting in."

Glancing to her brother, who shared his wife sentiment, the three of them with Saleb hanging from off her leg decided they would not discuss what happened on Earth, choosing instead to make up for the year they remained out of contact. They spoke about everything, from the status of the fleet, to how Saleb was nearly fitted with cybernetics in order to keep her healthy, to how Rael could potentially replace grandmother once she was gone.

Hanala merely smiled and nodded through most of it, choosing instead to drift away as her thoughts hoped that Joachim would be alright once he was awake once again.

Father and Grandmother stood there at the entrance to the Joachim and hers hospital room, their face both solemn as they stared on their daughter and granddaughter respectively. Hanala closed her eyes and opened them just as quickly, her face forming a mask that Joachim wore for so long in public. She would admit to no one just how right they were to have this trial.

Realizing quickly that this was not a conversation for the young family to partake in, Veyare lifted Saleb away from Hanala and Rael smiled to her sister. Hanala smiled back and watched as the three of them left, leaving Hanala to make the final walk down to the waiting Admirals.

"Father, Grandmother. I trust you are well…" she spoke to the two of them surprising just much she sounded like Hoch as well.

Her reaction startled the two of them, she did not react, she followed Joachim's posture, she head her head up high at them, her eyes narrowed and looking down on them, her stance nearly as rigid as the human whom inspired her sudden and utter boost in both arrogance a self confidence that felt completely natural.

"Well now," she said. "I suppose judgement has been a quick one."

Father nodded gravely.

"I have managed to convince them that exile was off the table," Father broke the silence at long last. "Because you have acknowledged your actions, you were found guilty of the unauthorized exploration of the Prothean Dreadnought. However, in light of your accidental, yet admirable first contact with humanity, your Captaincy shall instead be stripped and you will be placed under command of Admiral Halid'Zorah and his work in continuing what you have started."

Father trailed off as footsteps approached. Familiar boots marched towards them, clanging against the metal floor with a surprising snap. Grandmother and Hanala both followed his lead.

It was Joachim, walking at a steady pace to them.

Hanala's heart skipped three beats.

He was dressed in his uniform; his neck was the only sign that he had been wounded by her and the monsters inside the ship. Behind him were his nurses, their eyes suspiciously low as they watched how he walked. Hanala ignored the urge to steal Joachim's pistol and each of them in their throats and instead focused on how he stared at her.

The anger in him was gone.

He stopped in front of them, snapping his boots together and respectfully saluted the two admirals before he turned to Hanala, those blue eyes stunning her into a quiet submission. She did not notice the way Grandmother and Father were watching the wordless interaction between man and woman.

"Admiral's Jalina'Calis and Alaan'Jarva, this is Obersturmbannführer Joachim Hoch, a lieutenant colonel, I suppose." Hanala finally found her voice, managing not to stutter out his name to her Father.

Joachim, not bothered by the Admirals, merely tilted his head to one side in a slight bow for them.

"Admirals…"

Joachim trailed off as he inspected his new arm, his face blank as clearly hid what he thought about what was now attached to his arm. Hanala stepped past her family her hand pressing against his human arm. Still he stared off until Father cleared his throat abruptly, forcing both of them to turn back to him

Father was just as blank looking as Joachim, but for clearly different reasons.

"Forgive me, but... I thought you were scared of where you are... that arm." She pointed out, trying not to quiver as he stared at her.

Joachim's eyebrow arched.

"I am afraid that you must be mistaken, Captain Jarva." Joachim simply stated. "I do not fear anything to begin with."

Foregoing the kiss Hanala privately wanted to give him; Hanala merely nodded and watched as two men who probably had no business speaking privately, Father and Joachim leave both her and her grandmother. Slowly Hanala sighed hoping that Father did not pick up on anything and decide to toss Joachim out of the airlock for even thinking of defiling her. She smiled slightly to herself and turned back, finding her grandmother standing there, a knowing smile for her grandchild.

Taking her son-in-law by his arm, Jalina pulled father away, leaving Hanala and Joachim alone. As soon as they were gone, Hanala properly turned to face him.

"So... I guess I'm no longer a Captain." Hanala finally spoke to the human next to her. "Probably for the best… I'm not a very good Captain."

Joachim smiled disbelievingly and placed his natural hand onto hers.

"For what it's worth, you did everything right up until the desert expedition," He assured Hanala, his human hand squeezing hers firmly.

Hanala didn't reply to him, his words of encouragement didn't make her feel any better for what had happened to them in the desert and during the crash. She pulled her hands back and stared silently at the metal coated floor.

Appearing much bolder now that they were alone, the quarian stepped forward, her hands gripped his sleeve and rolled it up, revealing what he had so carefully tried to conceal. Her hands gripped the metal and rolled it over as though she was inspecting it what forward, her hands gripped his sleeve and rolled it up, not paying mind to wrinkling his jacket.

Though it seemed to delight him that he would have a second arm, an opportunity that no man had had, it did understandably still bother him. It still must have felt unnatural. Perhaps he would feel better when Hanala fulfilled the promise that the quarians would build him an arm that matched. Having three fingers was... well... it must have been odd.

"So how does it work?" Joachim finally spoke as he laid his eyes on the machinery. "Can I remove it at will?

The former captain shook her head.

"Not without surgery," she explained, dashing the question from him. "It's fused into your tissue, nerves and bones. It actually tricks your brain into thinking that you hadn't lost the arm in the first place. This sort of technology was one of our people's specialties before the exile. We have been playing with cybernetic and transquarianism for quite some time."

"Have you-"

"Do I have any implants? I do, but none as obvious as yours," Hanala admitted, smiling for Joachim as she took his hand and placed it just under her breast.

"I can't very well strip down and show you here, now can I?" she said coyly as Hoch twisted his head and refused to look at her in an apparent embarrassment.

Unperturbed by this sudden display of shyness, Hanala pushed his hand into her thinly clad flesh and sure enough, buried just under flesh was a hard sensation he could feel but not see. Hanala dropped the hand, taking a step closer to him. Gone was her sweet smile and replacing it was an expression of regret, of personal blame.

"So..." she whispered. "Are you mad at me for this?"

It seemed as though Joachim thought about it for a good long moment. He clearly wanted to be mad at her. She had made a serious judgment error and it nearly got the two of them killed for it. Yet, he could not find a real reason to express out loud.

"I never _asked_ for this..." he finally got out, his eyes still downcast and directed on his new arm.

Hanala nodded solemnly, her head bowed in shame.

"I will figure out a way to make this up," she promised, still refusing to look up to his sharp blue eyes.

Joachim gave the musing a few seconds of thought.

"You can start by never throwing live grenades around me ever again."

Hanala finally allowed herself to giggle slightly at his demand. She looked back up to him with perched lips. Her hands touched against his cheek, caressing it carefully until her hand slid upwards and stole cap from off his head. Again she laughed as he gave protesting grunt; her hand pushed the head dress off and replaced it with the officer hat. It was much too big for her head, yet still she wore it. Her wide grin reformed into a soft smile as she stepped closer. Her lips perched again as they closed into his-

A throat cleared, making Hanala jump wide eyed and turn to the source, her hand yanking the hat from off her head. It was her father. His eyes were narrowed on the two of them. He appeared rather relieved that he did not have to witness what was about to happen.

" _Father_!" Hanala got out, her voice was frantic that she had been caught nearly kissing a primitive onboard the ship.

Taking a deep breath as father turned his sheepish expression into one of professionalism; father took a step back from the man and woman, his hands falling to his sides.

"If you both have the time, I should think a family gathering is in order. Yes?" the Admiral spoke to his daughter and human.

 _A family gathering?_ This would be yet another first for him. Before Joachim could say anything, Hanala nodded her head and turned back to face him properly as they had been only moments ago.

"Joachim, you do not have to come if you do not wish to join us," Hanala reassured him, her voice light as her eyes searched his. "I would find no insult if you said no to it."

Joachim tilted his head to the woman respectfully.

"I would be honoured."

Hanala's bounced slightly, her reaction to his acceptance. He smirked, unable to contain his amusement with her seemingly ingrained little tick of hers. Father too appeared amused, but sobered quickly as he realized that the looks and little bounces didn't belong to those who were just friends.

"May I make a request from the two of you?"

Hanala glanced to Joachim nervously for a brief moment before turning back to her father. Father's expression was neutral as he seemed to debate what he wanted to say.

"Whatever the two of you do in your spare time, keep it on Earth and as far as possible away from your mother…" Alaan spoke carefully to his daughter. "I'm a bit more pragmatic to this, but she doesn't have to be. To say that she's not very happy about this is _significantly_ understating it."

Father shook his head and walked away, leaving Joachim confused and suddenly apprehensive to agreeing to meet Hanala's family. Hanala on the other hand, looked just as awkward, she rubbed her neck, her other hand placing Joachim's cap back onto her head as her father left them.

"I… _may_ have inadvertently spilled more than I intended to in the presence of both my Mother and Grandmother." she finally admitted, smiling sheepishly as she took in the shocked expression of the human.

Joachim stared at her as though he was a mad woman.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

The small child screamed at the sight of him. She actually screamed, frightened of him as though he was a giant monster. It was loud, so loud that her mother actually had to lift her up and pull her from out of Joachim's presence until she was stopped by Hanala grabbing the mother's arm.

Joachim clinched his closed. This was already a bloody mess.

"Veyare, please don't hide her just yet." Hanala asked, her voice sounding strangely childish for the sake of the little child in the woman's arms. "Saleb, this is Joachim'Hoch vas Earth, my friend."

The child named Saleb looked away from her mother and aunt and back to the human staring at her with a soft expression of curiosity at the sight of such a small quarian.

"He has dead eyes..." The girl complained, staring briefly at him before turning away back into her mother's shoulder. "No shine, just dead. Are you blind?"

The one known as Veyare shushed her daughter, her eyes widened as she believed the human standing before her was offended. Well Joachim wasn't offended, more amused than anything. He rubbed his neck, glancing to the bemused mother and struggling not to laugh Hanala.

"No, umm, Saleb..." Joachim assured the child. "I can see quite fine, thank you."

The doorway of the small gathering room opened and in entered several more to the gathering. Two Admirals, Alaan'Jarva and the old woman, whose name was Calis -Hanala's grandmother; behind her were two other quarians, a male and a female whose eyes were already glaring into his as though he had made some grievous error.

" _Mother…_ " Hanala whispered into his ear.

Joachim refused to show any emotion whatsoever. No matter how much he wanted to flee. He could place the look now; it was the same one that Hanala had when she was chasing Commandos across the desert. Silently he inwardly decided to be nothing short but respectful to the mother whose daughter he was... well... planning on defiling...

Doing his utmost to respectfully break the deadly glare, Joachim turned and saw that the second male had joined the young mother and the even younger daughter. The room was silent and the quarians took a careful inspection of the primitive alien now standing before them. Of the group, only two of them were smiling, Hanala and the kindly grandmother, who looked upon him like his own grandmother did before she died all those years ago. Hanala glanced at him and stepped forward, confidence overflowing as she smiled to her less than impressed family.

"Joachim'Hoch, this is my family," Hanala said, starting the official introduction. "My mother Galina, My father, Alaan, my grandmother Jalina, my brother Rael and his wife Veyare, and of course their little mouthpiece is Saleb."

Joachim nodded his head respectfully, feeling as though he was now on trial.

"I did not realize that you had such a large family," he managed to speak to the family at large. "Hanala has spoken nothing but praise about all of you."

Though he did not know any family had existed outside of Hanala's parents, at least it lightened the mood between him and them, as well as made Hanala smile as Joachim spoke on her behalf. He settled in next to Hanala and doing his best not to be reminded of being an awkward teenager courting his first girlfriend.

It was hard to believe how slow time could move when he had nothing to say. Nor was he subjected to any questions. It appeared to him that were shy, or they were all very well aware that something was going on between the human and the baby of the family and they did not like that for even a moment.

Well... perhaps he was being a bit defensive. One of them seemed to be somewhat accepting, if quiet about her acceptance. Hanala's grandmother, Jalina'Calis. Strange that she would be so accepting of an alien interested in her granddaughter.

Speaking of young former Captain's that he wanted to have his way with. Without so much as a warning to him, Hanala's hand slid from off her lap and gripped his thigh as though she controlled it. Joachim's eyes nearly widened as the hand moved in wide circles. He fought the urge to groan and thereby sealing his fate.

As Hanala chirped casually with her family about Earth and her past month and subtly moved her hand all along his body, the door opened, catching everyone's attention. Standing in the door was Admiral Zorah, his hands at his side as he first glanced on Joachim, then to the rest of the family. Admiral Jarva too looked up.

"Admiral Jarva, Admiral Calis," Zorah spoke to the Admiral before Alaan could ask anything. "I was hoping to speak to Hanala'Jarva for a few moments."

Father and daughter shared a brief look at. Joachim felt a hand squeeze against his thigh before she let go of him.

"By all means, Admiral," the Admiral allowed, gesturing to his daughter who nodded.

As Hanala stood from out of her seat, so did Joachim, who leaned over to pull Hanala's seat out for her. Hanala and her family looked confused at his actions, but regardless Hanala raised her thin eyebrows, her lip quirking at the strange chivalry.

"We should be leaving as well, back to the civilian fleet," Rael spoke as he hugged his sister. "We will be in touch with you, sister."

Rael let go of his sister and turned back to Joachim briefly. He had no words to say to the human. Joachim could not blame him. Brothers were supposed to be defensive. It seemed to be the case on Earth as well. Hanala too looked to Joachim but she at least smiled before following Admiral out in the hallway, leaving Joachim alone with two Admirals and a mother who was glaring a hole into his head.

Admiral Jarva glanced to his wife, who nodded.

"Lieutenant Martus'Xen briefed us about what he had learned about your policies," Alaan spoke finally. "How he considers it racist ideology in the form of perverted nationalism. Care to rebuke it?"

Halfway to lighting a cigarette, Joachim instead placed the unlit cigarette on the table, his face ashen face as he stared back into the bright eyes of Hanala's father…

"What did he say specifically?" Joachim inquired wearily, not liking where this was inevitably going to lead.

The Admiral glanced to his curious wife and the frowning elder. He took a drink from his glass and sighed.

"That your government has set up blood purity laws banned marriage and conception between certain ethnic groups," Alaan pressed on, his neutral as he stared at the human. "That your government has been forcefully deporting your own citizens from their homes. How do you feel about it?"

Joachim arched his brow.

" _Feel_?" Joachim repeated without pause. "I feel nothing for them. If by ethnic groups you mean the Jews, then yes. I feel absolutely nothing for their plight. They have squatted in my nation since the fourth century. At one point or another, Jews have been consistently the only group thrown repeatedly out of nations they try to live in. One must ask why this is so. The hatred of the Judaism must have logical reasons for such hatred to persist."

Admiral Jarva tilted his head.

"They do not fit in?"

Joachim shrugged.

"They make next to no effort to blend in and very few of them have any sense of national pride. Most of them are politically liberal to the point of Marxist. They crashed two Reich's and seek to destroy the Third." He continued without so much as pausing. "Internationally, Their sole goal these days is to dry the pockets of the world until the Zionists get what they want. The homeland - some awful strip of sand and rock - Until then, the Jew will continue to play their only card. Cry that they're about to be exterminated by the goyim..."

Hanala's grandmother raised her hand; her expression was troubled by Joachim.

"Surely you don't think that forceful deportation is going to buy your nation any sympathy from the other nations that stand against you," Hanala's grandmother spoke up, her voice barely audible over her rasp.

Joachim remained lock mouthed as he stared at the group of quarians.

"No, but few nations can judge us; not without coming off as hypocrites," he informed the older woman. "We gave a chance for an exodus many times prior to the war. For years we pleaded with America, United Kingdom, Canada... much of the world in fact to take them, and yet few of these more _civilized_ nations took them in. They had good reasons for not doing so, for where they end up, their degeneracy follows shortly afterwards. We did all in our power to avoid it, making deals with Zionist Jewish leaders in the Palestinian Mandate to take in sixty thousands of them, and yet still they refused to leave. From before the war broke out - 1933 to 1939 - we have provided every reasonable means of removing them from our nation. The world, however, failed them, so forceful deportations were as much the so called free world's fault as it is ours."

Hoch trailed off.

"No one is innocent in their plight," he finished, lowering his tone back to a whisper. "Not even the Jews themselves."

Silence, nothing but stunned silence greeted his ravings. He had to admit he must have sounded like quite a mad man to them, but they never had to deal with the Christ Killers and traitors as the rest of the human race did.

"So no, Admirals, I will not shed any tears for them and neither should you," he concluded, leaning into his seat as he removed his gold cigarette box. "We reap what we sow and the Jews have had this coming since the moment they forced us out of the last war, instigated the Communist uprisings in 1919, and then played around our feeble economy until it was smashed good and proper back in 1929."

Joachim leaned back into his seat, smiling slightly as he lit a cigarette and took a drag. His eyes focused on Galina, who stared right back. She looked absolutely disgusted by him. For what reason other than Hanala, he could not see.

"I can see what my daughter sees in you…" she finally found her voice, thick with dangerous sarcasm. "What a charming little rant."

Before Joachim could react, a voice called out.

"I can't see why we have any right to judge."

Hanala's mother turned away from her glare at the human and to the source of the voice. Admiral Calis, the elderly woman. She leaned into her seat, her hands resting on her lap.

"We did the same thing to non-quarians during the exile," Calis reminded her daughter and son-in-law. "Interspecies marriages were dissolved in quarian law; The Quarian survival mandate was set out that any quarian who refused to return to the fleet was summarily exiled. There were no exceptions to the rules. They were laid out to both defend our species survival and as defiant racism against any race that did not help us with the geth. We are by no means any more enlightened than humanity is."

Alaan looked uneasy with the words spoken by the elder quarian. Hanala's mother on the other hand remained unfazed.

"If the geth are right and they did have some sort of genuine self-awareness, our intentions, our plans to exterminate their entire consciousness would be just as. If not more grievous than anything Hoch and his government feel about an ethnic group." She concluded, sighing slightly.

The room went silent as the door slid open. Hanala was back again, she smiled slightly to her family and then to him. Any trace of the conversation vanished, leaving the quarians looking between their child and human who had spoken so plainly about the way things were on Earth. In her hands was a simple jacket, wrapped in some sort of coloured plastic.

"We'll be joining Admiral's next meeting with Langer, Joachim," she spoke to him in nearly a chirp. She turned to her family and added. "I'm afraid we must go now. Mother, Father, Grandmother, I'll see you all soon enough."

None of them seemed too happy with it, but regardless, one by one, her parents and grandmother stood from their seats and pulled their child in a protective hug and a tender kiss on her cheek. All of them clearly concern with how deep she was in to this operation but none of them willing to admit they felt that way. Joachim nodded respectfully to the family and followed Hanala out of the room.

They walked in silence for a bit of the way; Hanala smiled slightly and placed her arm into Joachim's as they pressed on.

"That wasn't so bad." He spoke up, lying through his teeth to her.

His words earned a slight laugh from the quarian.

"Just wait until they're drinking and you've worn out the novelty of being an alien," Hanala returned.

Joachim tried his utmost not to think about that inevitability. He probably didn't make the best first impressions on them.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 **Changes: Too much to list, but most importantly, I got rid of the trial scene, worked in the bits that were originally in the previous chapter and got rid of the whole Hoch on the Moon Iron Skies bullshit. This was an extremely ugly chapter and I don't think it looks much better. I am just glad to move onto the next few chapters that are only visually ugly and not plot ugly. I knew this chapter was ugly when I first posted it five years ago and played as the only real obstacle to doing this clean up sooner.**

 **I'm also looking in at the later stories and decided they need some padding stripped off as well. The extra bits will find home in an anthology story like I originally had up.**

 **Thanks for hanging in.**


	14. A Painful Return

**Chapter Fourteen: A Painful Return**

 **...**

It was a midnight landing as Zorah said it would be. It was understandable really considering they needed to do everything under the radar, so to speak.

The side of the exotic ship opened and out stepped the quarians before Joachim and Hanala could. Half a dozen armed, quarian men and women clad in environmental suits that Hanala had to wear when she landed. All of them packed what looked like supplies for a prolonged stay on Earth. Admiral Zorah glanced at the two of them briefly before standing up from his seat as he climbed out of the ship.

The ship was empty, all except for Joachim and Hanala who remained sitting in their seats. They shared a brief smile and a careful kiss as they stood up together, helping one another up, especially helping Joachim, who could feel the painkillers wearing off.

" _Welcome back Admiral Zorah_." Joachim could hear Langer greet the Admiral, his voice holding that familiar charming greeting _"I see you have brought more things to make our stay comfortable."_

 _"Yes,"_ Zorah answered back. " _That is if you do not mind."_

 _"Not in the slightest, Herr Admiral."_ Langer assured the quarian leader, _"Though I do have questions about my executive officer."_

"Ask him yourself." Joachim called out, offering his old friend a half smile as he staggered out of the ship, quickly followed by Hanala, who gripped the back of his jacket.

Langer took one look at the two of them and stared wide eyed at the both of them.

"Hoch, Jarva... what the hell _happened_ to you two?" Langer hissed at the two of them, his wide with alarm as he took in their equally abused appearance. Joachim held up his hand to silence the old man.

"It's a long story, Langer," Joachim sighed, rubbing his neck as he briefly turned to Hanala for a subtlety encouraging smile. "I will debrief you once I get some sleep."

Before Langer could reply, footsteps in the snow marched towards the group, catching everyone's attention. Marching towards them was another grey uniformed Waffen-SS man. He a bear of a man with slick black hair, and a long hideous scar slashed down the side of his face. The man stood in front of Langer and offered the Standartenführer a salute.

"Standartenführer, might I have a word in private?" the man rumbled lowly. Langer turned properly to face the giant.

"Ah... Admiral, Hoch, might I introduce you to our new chief of security, Otto Skorzeny." Langer introduced the scar faced Waffen-SS soldier to the Admiral and the Obersturmbannführer. He turned back to Skorzeny and said. "Please, whatever you need to say, you can say in front of our new friends. They will need to know what is happening."

Skorzeny raised his eyebrow, almost amused by the lack of secrecy between the two potential allies. Hanala and Joachim shared a brief look.

"Very well then," Skorzeny obliged the still smiling superior ranked Langer. "I think that you have given me a hundred glorified police officers to defend our new friends from upwards to thirty highly trained, well-armed and far too experienced commandos. If you grant me an additional twenty to thirty men handpicked by me and brought in quietly, they'll never what's about to unfold."

Zorah cleared his throat, and offered a slightly too polite smile.

"Perhaps one or two of my men could help," the Admiral offered to them, his voice polite as he caught the tall human off guard.

Skorzeny turned away from the Standartenführer and instead towards the quarians. He eyed them one by one, his expression growing quickly unenthusiastic by the marine's presence.

"If they can prove to me that they don't have to hide behind their technology and can be an _actual_ soldier, then I may consider it," Skorzeny finally spoke aloud to the admiral, dismissing the offer quickly. He turned away and met Langer's eyes once again. He had more to say.

"They'll have an escape plan. Most likely involving a long distance truck drive to the west, Vichy France perhaps, or Switzerland if they're feeling bold," Skorzeny pressed on. "I would like a ground attack squadron on standby, just in case a few manage to escape the trap. I should think that letting this secret get out so quickly is not in our best interest."

Langer nodded.

"Agreed, I'll make a call to Heydrich. I'll see if he can provide us some additional support," Langer agreed with the Security Chief.

Skorzeny gave Langer and Hoch each a look and turned away, leaving the group of humans and quarians to their own devices. He seemed unmoved that there were aliens no more than meters away from him. Glancing to Zorah, Joachim could see that he was confused by the professional soldier's attitude.

"He seems... odd..." Zorah remarked, his arms cross and his helmet tilted slightly.

Sighing, Langer turned back to the Admiral.

"He's still recovering from his actions in the east..." Langer excused the giant Waffen-SS man. "I imagine taking rocket shrapnel to the head would make him prone to an attitude... I heard all he needed was a bandage, a few aspirins and strong drink."

A few of the quarians shuffled, impressed with what they had heard.

"Is that where he got that facial scar?" one of the lower ranked quarian marines questioned the Standartenführer out of turn.

Langer shook his head.

"No, of course not; that's a mensur scar… duelling scar, a badge of honour apparently in certain circles." he explained, unfazed by the lack of respect in the tone. Langer paused and smirked slightly, adding, "Listen to me gossip, I sound like my wife."

A few of the quarians chuckled nervously. It was enough to incite the old man even further.

"It's good to see that the obsessively loud mouth wife syndrome transcends species..." Langer spoke to the group as they headed back to the museum entrance. "Some days it gets so bad that I just want to just choke her until talking hurts too much."

Joachim shook his head and turned to glance at Hanala, whom looked absolutely disgusted by what Langer had so casually. She wasn't the only one. The other quarian marines mostly looked rather scandalized. Admiral Zorah however appeared nearly amused. Without anyone looking, Joachim squeezed the former Captain's hand, catching her attention.

"Come on, let's go get settled in."

Hanala nodded, looking relieved to get away from the group. So was he if he was being honest, anything to have a few private moments with the woman who maintained Joachim's hand over top of hers.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

For Joachim, it was good to be back on friendly soil. It was especially good to back on the goddamn planet and not on some roaming spaceship orbiting the moon of all places. To be back in Austria felt almost as though being home in Berlin where he resided since he left home in Kiel back in 1935.

Once he recovered he could head back there, Berlin, he meant. Joachim had a small house on the outskirts of the city. Perhaps he would head to Kiel; the city of his birth. Perhaps he would go see his mother. Meeting Hanala's family reminded him that he still had his... well whatever remained of it, just a mother who had hated his decision to serve. Perhaps he would drag Hanala along to Kiel... maybe not though…definitely back to Berlin, however. Somewhere quiet for the two of them to forget that they ended up in that demonic place buried under the sand and dirt of Libya. It would be nice to get those memories out of his head. Joachim could still feel the terror of the ship in the back of his mind.

A knock on the door surprised him. Pulling off his trousers, he glanced at the door with the mildest of grins. Oh... he didn't need more than a single guess that was standing behind that door. He stepped forward, opening the door.

He did not have time to react as lips fell on to his. Long, slender arms wrapped around his neck as he felt himself being pushed back into his room. Her legs seemed to have dragged back, kicking something that Joachim could pay no attention too as Hanala slammed the door behind her and forced him to bang her back up against the oak doorway.

With as much strength as he could muster at that moment, he slid the quarian up the door, he could vague focus on the long curved legs wrapped tightly around his waist as the sexual tension broke between the two of them. Hanala pulled away, staring upwards at the ceiling as her hands pushed Joachim's head down.

" _Hanala_?" he found himself breathing into quarian cleavage. Not that he could say that he minded that in the slightest.

The shallow animalistic breathing stopped, replacing it was breathing much more controlled as Hanala slid off him and landed daintily onto the hardwood floor. Her face was contorted into a mixture of doleful admonishment to her actions. He watched with strained amusement as she bounced on her toes as her hands latched onto his. She seemed not bothered by the metal hand in the slightest as it touched against her.

"Sorry... I just lost control..."she sighed, her voice sounding packed with longing. "You don't mind if... you know... I move in here? My room lacks a human bed warmer... I sort of grew accustomed to one during our venture to the desert."

She gestured to the bags she kicked into the room and smiled to get his approval.

Glancing between bags and Hanala's hopeful gaze, he nodded and shuffled back to his bed, Hanala leaning next to him, her hands now wrapped around him as he climbed into the bed. As she joined him by his side, he wrapped her in the blankets. She did not take a pillow offered to her, choosing instead to rest her head on his bicep.

"You know I was thinking..." Hanala spoke suddenly as Joachim closed his eyes. "Since the army did not look twice at me, perhaps you can show me Vienna once you are feeling better. I will have to blend in better perhaps... pretend to be your wife or something silly like that."

Joachim gave her a look, his human hand finding hers.

"So long as we're only pretending," he bargained, doing his very best not to smirk as he grumbled back to her. "I imagine you would be a pain in the ass if you were my actual wife."

Joachim laughed as he watched Hanala flush and scowl.

She sat up from her resting place and. One by one, her nightgown straps were pushed from off her body, falling freely off her body and rested against her hips. Her legs swung over, on each side of Joachim, her pelvis grinding into his as her hand reached down and took Joachim's hand, pressing it just under her left breast as she had done on board the _Kareon_. Still she rolled her hips, the movement putting the human in a helpless frenzy she leaned in.

"I had a heart condition as a child that gene therapy didn't catch," Hanala whispered into his ear, her voice thick and full lust as the fingers touched against the cylindrical device buried inside of her. "Without it, I would have been dead by my tenth year."

Vaguely appreciating what cybernetic technology did for the two of them, Joachim nodded his head blankly, his focus very aware of Hanala pushing his hand lower and lower, touch ribs, touching stomach, touching pelvis... Joachim swallowed the dry knot in his throat as Hanala leaned in, kissing his neck, her teeth nipping away at his flesh.

"S-So what is this going to be?" he managed to moan lowly, his machine hand reaching up and carefully gripping her thigh. Hanala's hooded eyed narrowed as they focused onto him.

"Don't you _want_ me?" Hanala breathed, pushing all of her weight into his pelvis. "Do you want to move inside me…make me... make me cry out your name?"

Joachim nodded his head into the pillow, now at his breaking point. He wanted her so bad that he would kill everyone and anything she wanted him to kill. He would forgive her blowing off his arm, for lying. He would do just about anything to be relieved of this and at long last inside her.

"Oh God, yes..."

He moaned as he felt Hanala's thin lips and teeth pull off his skin, her grinding ceased and her hand caressing his face so tenderly. Suddenly, Hanala's expression of lust broke into a devilish grin. Joachim didn't like this expression in the slightest.

" _You wish, Hoch._ " she smirked as she climbed off him and laid flat on the bed, covering her body with the blanket.

With Hanala resting back in his arms and giggling like she was just the most fucking clever person ever, she closed her eyes, leaving Joachim a frustrated mess.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: cleaned up the rankings. Nice short chapter so I figured why not get it out right away.**


	15. February 27th, 1942

**Chapter Fourteen: February 27th, 1942**

 **...**

The phone rang, interrupting Joachim in the middle of getting dressed for the day. It had been a week since the two of them returned. Lazy days they shared together in each other's companies, learning about one another, acting like teenagers despite the two of them having a combined body count that put many in the war to shame.

It was strange to do this... Between the ways he was raised. The rise of National Socialism and the Great Depression, Joachim didn't have much time to do any of this. He had been in relationships, had sex with the local girls in the nations he marched across and occupied, but a real, functional relationship was different. It also didn't help that he could not exactly opening court her. He could not show her anything outside of Vienna just yet, he could not admit it to anyone other Hertzer, who took one look at the two of them and called them out. Joachim nearly dropped the Panzer Commander without a Panzer to command.

Buttoning up his jacket, he grabbed the phone receiver.

"Yes?" he spoke a bit gruffer than he had intended.

 _"Herr Obersturmbannführer Joachim Hoch?"_

"Speaking."

 _"Herr Hoch, This is Paul Brenner, of the Luftschutzpolizei,"_ the voice spoke on the other end of the phone line. _"There was an early morning bombing raid against Kiel, perpetrated by the English. Your mother, Marta Elise Hoch was amongst the casualties. On behalf of the Fuhrer I would like to extend you are most sincere sympthie-"_

Joachim hung the phone up without bothering to acknowledge the news. He stepped lightly back to his bed and sat down, his human hand shaking as he pulled on his boots. Quietly, he slicked his hair back and pulled on his cap. He stood back up and wandered out of the room he now shared with Hanala. He took in a long unsteady breath as he closed the door behind him.

His hands dug into his cigarette box and pulled the gold case out. It was an inheritance from his father, one of the few heirlooms of Hoch family that he had kept after he took off and joined the SS.

His mother was _dead_... the last of his family was _gone_.

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and shook his head. He could not show this. Not to anyone, not to Langer, especially not to Hanala. The last thing he needed now was for her to think less of him.

He swallowed the heartache and pressed on his thoughts a mess as he walked blankly down the long museum wing, vaguely nodding to any soldier who snapped out a salute to him.

He had been a lousy son, more so than she had been a bad mother. She was damaged and he only served to make it that much worse for her. He provoked his father into violence, he got into fights with schoolboys, teenagers, his father, even a teacher once. He did it to elicit a response, to give his mother one brief moment of strength, even if it meant Joachim would be beaten for it. He just wanted her to show him that she was there under the shell of the biweekly spousal abuse, starving as the hyperinflation set in and she struggled to feed him, grieving when the French occupation forces shot and killed father. She did not grieve for the man he was when Joachim was alive, but the man who she loved prior to the Great War, whom they had three perfect sons together.

Joachim never knew this period of happiness but he knew what he was. Why he was conceived. He was an attempt to bring happiness to a shell of a woman and bitter veteran. He failed to achieve his purpose. At least that was what Father said to him a few days before he was killed.

"Herr Obersturmbannführer?"

Joachim turned and found two young SS riflemen staring at him curiously. He had stopped moving and was simply staring off. Joachim took in a breath.

"Carry on."

The riflemen glanced at one another, but went on their way. Joachim ducked his head, exhaling a shuttering breath as he furiously dried his eyes. He continued walking in a daze, his brain deciding on a direction, Langer's office.

Perhaps it was best that this had happened. Mother had wasted two decades, miserable and weak. Perhaps she would be in a better place now, back when she was strong. Back when she had her original children, the good ones that loved and respected her right up to their deaths. Far away from the replacement child that stood against everything she stood for.

Joachim's machine hand rubbed the back of his neck as he turned the corner and passed by several science personnel deep in talk about the quarian vessel stationed here. None of the words registered his grief filled mind could barely keep him focused on walking. He allowed a salute to several more soldiers before he opened Langer's door and stepped into his office.

He stood there silently in the dark, empty office and found what he was looking for, Langer's famed liquor stash.

Joachim poked few the bottles of liquor in the cabinet until finally he came across a bottle of scotch whiskey that looked appealing. He sat down behind Langer's desk and poured himself a generous sized portion. Quietly, Joachim inhaled it and set the glass down, pouring himself another drink.

As he continued his binge, his thoughts fell to Hanala and her family. He wondered if she realized how lucky she was to have a family that cared so much for her, who wanted protected her from men like him. Damaged like the rest of his family, only with a pretty veneer coating to hide the ugliness of his soul. He wondered if Hanala realized how much he envied her for the few hours she spent with her family.

They may have had their own faults for all Joachim knew, but at least reprimanding was through words for Hanala, not fists, sticks and lighters.

It also made him wonder about his future. A first to be honest, before all of this happened; The quarians, meeting Hanala, coming to grow fond of her, he did not see himself surviving the war, and even if he did survive the conflict, his future was unknown. He had no goals.

Hanala brought about a different thought process for postwar planning. He still did not know what the future held for him, but so long as Hanala remained alive, he could not see a future that didn't involve her being a part of his life.

Glass cracked and shattered, schnapps splashed against Langer's desktop. Joachim stood up out of his trance and realized that the pressure of his machine hand broke his glass. His hand still needed some serious therapy for him to get use to such a grip, or perhaps he would have to be careful what he handled when he had that much to drink. The last thing he wanted to do now was to grab Hanala in a drunken state. She was tough but she looked as delicate as the glass he had just smashed.

He muttered a long line of curse words as he leaned over and grabbed Langer's paper bin and scoped the broken glass inside. His handkerchief buried inside his pocket cleaned the pooling liquor. With the table clean, Joachim grabbed a pen and a piece of paper.

 _-Langer_

 _I owe you a bottle of Schnapps and a new glass._

 _-Hoch_

Joachim dropped the pen and grabbed the bottle instead. Drying his eyes and stumbled slightly as he tried to leave the room. He paused as his eyes fell onto the telephone on Langer's desk. Joachim exhaled as he stepped back to the table, pulled the telephone receiver off the handle and somehow managed to dial Langer's number.

It took half a dozen rings before finally the Langer's line at his home was finally picked up.

" _Hello?_ " The feminine voice called on the other end of the line, she sounded somewhat frazzled. _"This is Frau Langer. Standartenführer Langer is not home at the moment."_

Joachim somehow managed to smile at the sound of such a familiar voice.

"Langer... I mean, Lene. It's Hoch," he managed to expel without slurring too much.

 _"Oh my, Joachim!"_ Lene Langer's voice shifted and reformed into a charming, enthusiastic greeting for the man. _"How have you been? Oh, I have not heard from you in quite some time!"_

He tried to smile at the enthusiasm emanating from Gerald Langer's slightly over dramatic wife.

"Likewise, I haven't eaten so well since we last conversed," he recalled, earning a soft giggle from the woman. "I did not call about cooking however; I was hoping you could help me out. Are you free?"

 _"Of course I am,"_ was her quick reply. _"Just how may I be of help to you?"_

Before he could respond, an overwhelming wave of grief and guilt formed in his mind, He wasn't sure what it specifically was about, but it was bad enough to make him lose control for a second, He bit his hand as hard as he could, attempting to use pain to control himself once again.

 _"Joachim... Joachim, are you still there?"_ He could hear Lene call from the receiver.

Satisfied that he was able to control himself, he put the receiver against his ear once again.

"I'm here... I-I would like you to come down to the museum Gerald and I are stationed at," he requested as he leaned against Langer's desk. "I'll have the guard's give you access, I need an eye for fashion and I think you would be just the woman to assist me."

There was a long pause taken by Lene, as though she seemed to be debating the request.

 _"I'll be down there in a few hours. I'll have to call in my maid for the children,"_ the voice finally called, albeit, much more subdued. _"Joachim, I... are you alright?"_

Lene's keen observation nearly caused Joachim to break down. She always had this power of knowing just when everything was not okay for him.

"I'm fine… everything is fine… everything is all perfect." He flat out lied to assure the concerned mother, his voice calm and collected as he added. "I'll see you in a bit."

Joachim hung up the phone line, his body shaking strangely as the guilt of lying to someone like Lene was an overwhelming one. He took a deep steadying inhale and stepped out of the offices and out to find Hanala, bottle still in hand. She wanted to go see Vienna? Well she would need a human fashion lesson first. Perhaps it would help him clear his mind. He needed a distraction from this news.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

How he found himself out on the grounds of the museum was much like how he ended up in cafeteria. It simply all a blur, what remained of his sober mind told he should be on duty. He was wearing a uniform, that's what he should have been doing, despite having a quarter of a bottle of schnapps in him making his decisions now.

The schnapps worked for the most part. It suppressed thoughts of the loss he had just incurred. Marta Hoch was the absolute last thing on his mind. At the moment he wanted a nice large sandwich, ale and a quarian giving him a blow job. All things attainable if he continued playing his cards right.

Stumbling down the stairs past several amused guards, he found himself staring at an odd sight. It looked as though the new guy, Otto Skorzeny had taken it upon himself to tear a huge hole in the middle of the snow covered rose garden and had decided to do a little horticulture himself.

By horticulture, Hoch meant Skorzeny was planting a duel barrel 20mm flak cannon covered in camouflage netting.

Well, Joachim, being in the state he was naturally going to be curious.

"What are you doing...? Skorzeny, isn't it?" Joachim asked, doing his best not to hiccough.

The giant stopped working and stood up, turning to face the swaying younger man, his lips curled, wrinkling the duelling scar and somehow making the frightening looking man look that much more frightening. He took one careful stare at Joachim and turned away, uninterested in the superior officer's presence.

"What do you _think_ we're doing?" Skorzeny answered the lieutenant colonel as he pushed more floras over the gun barrel netting. "We're blending a flak cannon into the garden. The last thing they'll expect is the first shot taken at them is by an anti-aircraft gun."

Talk about overkill... then again, this was the same man who nearly went through with a plan to flood Moscow in the dead of winter according to the information he had given to him by Langer.

"Shouldn't... Shouldn't you _salute_ me first? You're on duty," Joachim spoke up, his commanding tone somewhat returning to his voice. "I don't like being disrespected by you."

Christ, he was in no condition to be out here handing out demands to men like Otto Skorzeny, Speaking of Skorzeny, he emitted a short, humourless laugh.

"And shouldn't you be sober?" Skorzeny threw back into Joachim's face, his voice taunting. "I can smell liquor from here. Besides, I'm here at request of Kaltenbrunner and Heydrich. I don't answer to some pissant boy who was promoted much too quickly…"

Before Joachim could counter, Skorzeny stepped forward, looming over Joachim like a giant bear.

"Let me spill you a little secret, Herr Hoch," the commando informed him, his face curling into an awful sneer. "Heydrich and his underling Adolf Eichmann are keeping a much closer eye on this project than you think. Eichmann is salivating to take over the emissary position that you have. He's probably going to get it too."

Skorzeny snorted and shook his head, still leering at Hoch.

"Personally, I don't give a damn who ends up in charge, but you should," Skorzeny warned him. "You may just find yourself back in Russia sooner than you think..."

Leaving a temporarily stunned Hoch, Skorzeny turned away and directed his gaze to a low approaching rumble.

"Right on time," he mumbled approvingly.

A pair of Opel Blitz trucks pulled up to where the commando and the SS guard were camouflaging the 20mm cannon. The trucks were both packets to the brim with soldiers, who jumped out and formed into several squads; all of them wore a distinctive camouflage, half Stahlhelms and carried submachine guns. Not one of them carried a Karabiner.

 _Fallschirmjägers_ , Skorzeny decided to bring paratroopers to the fight.

"They're the unit I trust to get things done and don't dick around with politics." Skorzeny spoke behind the younger man. "They'll keep your precious aliens alive. Just keep them out of their way, yes?"

Turning away from Hoch, Skorzeny left his presence to address the new men. Joachim sighed and headed back to the cafeteria of the museum. He had a bottle of scotch waiting for him and he had no patience to deal with anymore neither military, nor political horseshit for the time being.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

She had never seen a human woman before. Then again, the human woman never had seen a quarian woman before, either. When Hanala watched as Joachim Hoch personally escorted in a statuesque blonde, she had expected the woman to show any sign of emotion. She did not, however, make as much as a strained look.

Perhaps Hoch had explained to her on the way up to meet Hanala, perhaps it had been her husband. Langer as she later found out. Regardless, Hanala was quite impressed with the courteous welcome granted by the decade or so older Lene Langer.

There was no time speaking casual. Joachim had her fit for an earpiece translator and the discussion of human fashion begun.

At the moment, Hanala found herself standing in the middle of Joachim's office. Joachim stood off to the side, swaying slightly and looking strange... different in his demeanour. Lene Langer however was pacing in circles around Hanala, her hand covering her mouth as she took in the simple black and purple bodysuit she had choose to wear today.

It was pretty and practical according to mother, it serviced as a para-environmental suit. Though she may have adapted and flourished in the heat of the desert, she was still concerned about the rest of the world. Even if there wasn't a need to be, hands grazed the head dress. Wishing it was Joachim doing the touching, she turned to him and founding searching and discovering a cigarette to smoke.

Hanala sighed. She wished she could have a cigarette right about now.

"Your fashion is... _interesting_ , sleek, practical... however lacks... femininity, grace, delicacy" The older woman finally commented, taking a step back from the quarian. "I imagine you would like to blend in. I think you would look very nice in something conservative from Chanel... or something audacious from Milan perhaps. A long dress to cover your legs... perhaps some long elegant gloves, definitely, some sunglasses to cover those eyes..."

Hanala had no clue what Milan and Chanel meant, but it was the next words that bothered her the most.

"Strip please."

Hanala did her utmost not to turn purple at the request made. Lene however seemed almost bored at the reaction. As though seeing a naked nonhuman was perfectly normal for her to witness.

"You look as though you have all the same parts as I do, love." The woman reassured the quarian. "There's no need to be shy... Joachim, be a dear and leave. This should be private."

Hanala glanced up to Joachim, who stood in his turned, inhaling and exhaling a cigarette rather quickly. He glanced up, his expression amused.

"No, thank you Lene," Joachim disagreed. "My office, my rules, I'm staying."

Though Lene was not impressed by the defiance, Hanala was amused, amused enough to do as Lene said. Without words or so much as a look to Joachim, Hanala unfastened the light, colourful plastics and her headdress, leaving her in nothing more than simple undershirt and relatively revealing underwear.

Lene glanced her over and stepped forward, what looked like a measuring tape in her hand. Somewhat disturbed by, Hanala shut it out the best she could.

"Oh come now Fraulein, again, I've done this before," Lene reminded the nervous Hanala. "There is absolutely nothing to be worried about."

Hanala smiled uncomfortably as she felt Lene wrapped the measuring tape. She instead turned her gaze from the muttering Lene, to Joachim who was leaning against the wall... just looking at her...Look at her as though she was consumable. He wanted to take her right there and then, it was painfully obvious. Perhaps she would fulfill that wish tonight, if she was being honest with herself, not much was holding herself back either, just an older woman with a measuring tape around her waist. Hoch turned away, still smirking as he rubbed his eyes.

Hanala sighed and turned back to Lene, thoughts of sex would be pushed to the back of her consciousness as she focused on the task at hand, dressing like a human.

"36B cup size, 29 inch waist..." The woman spoke clearly, looking up to the quarian. "You have no idea how envious I am of that figure. I would kill Gerald to have that hourglass frame."

Hanala fought the urge to blush.

"Thank you…I guess..." She spoke much more shyly than she intended.

Being complimented wasn't one of her strengths. She always felt it was vanity run amok, a trend that was quickly dying out and being replaced with a much more conservative lifestyle the fleet had to impose for its survival. Such things as pride in culture, looks, and the little things that made quarians, quarians were hard to hold onto. These things humans seemed to take for granted was quickly growing into a rarity for the fleet. All thanks to the aliens they once called _'allies'_ that left them to their doom. Now however they had a chance, a real chance to be free again. On a planet, reorganizing, one day fighting the geth for Rannoch once they were prepared...

"Don't thank her too quickly." Joachim spoke abruptly, earning a head turn from both women. "She would kill her husband for a new dress, and don't tell me otherwise."

Lene playfully glared at her husband's friend.

"Hardly..." She started, paused as though she had to think and added. "Well, maybe for the latest Milan collection."

Joachim and Lene laughed slightly at the expense of the absent Colonel and husband to Lene. Still smiling charmingly, Lene took one step back and nodded her head thoughtfully.

"Yes, I think Chanel will look just nice on you..." She decided, trailing off before adding. "Heh, funny."

Hanala tilted her head.

"Pardon?"

Lene glanced to Joachim.

"We have to overpay the French to make us clothing; our men kill the French and take whatever they want," Lene giggled slightly. "I think the men might be the smart ones on this occasion. I really should have given Gerald and Joachim a shopping list back in 1940…"

Lene laughed slightly and glance to Joachim who had smirked in their direction as his hand reached into his pocket, finding what looked as though to be a leather pouch, which he threw on to his table in front of Hanala.

"Take all of my Reichsmarks and get her what you think is perfect," Joachim slurred softly. "I got to go, Lene... Hanala."

Granting Lene a kiss on her cheek and a knowing smile for Hanala who tried not to fume at not receiving the same, Joachim left the two women alone. Lene hummed softly as she rolled up the measuring tape and turned back to Hanala, her eye brow arched, her face contorted into an arrogance so well placed that Hanala could have sworn Joachim was possessing her.

"Do you care for him? Or is he just an amusement," Lene inquired as she grabbed her fur coat and pushed back over her shoulders. She stepped away, finding a mirror. She leaned into it and carefully reapplied her lip stick.

Hanala, feeling somewhat plain by comparison, simply nodded as she pulled on her bodysuit once again.

"Yes, I consider him a good friend to me," She admitted building as much of a barrier as she could.

Lene inspected the application and smacked her lips carefully. Softly, she sighed and turned back to Hanala, her cold blue, nearly grey eyes inspecting every inch of Hanala's blank expression.

"He could have any woman in Germany, you know?" Lene spoke delicately. "Hoch could get a good woman from good, Aryan stock; a woman with strong Christian virtues. He could have had my daughter, even... yet he has chosen to hold you to such high esteem..."

Her smirk widened slightly into a carefully practised smile.

"If we are to become friends, I would suggest you do whatever it takes to keep him in good spirits." She added. "After everything he has gone through, he deserves the best."

Collecting the leather pouch filled with the local currency, Lene left Hanala's side. Not before pausing and turning to face Hanala once more. Her expression was less arrogant and much more filled with genuine concern.

"And a word of advice," Lene continued onwards. "That man has been drinking all day, from the moment he called me to now. Something has happened and I suggest you get to the bottom of it."

Allowing Hanala a slight smile and a nod of her head, Lene departed, leaving Hanala much to ponder.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 _"You owe me a bottle of schnapps and a new glass."_

The drinking SS officer glanced up and found Gerald Langer was standing over him. In his hand was the note Joachim had written. Gerald pocketed it and placed his hand on Joachim's shoulder as he took a seat next to him. Hoch scrunched his face and nodded.

"That I do old friend..." Joachim greeted Gerald with a grin. "H-How are you?"

Langer could only audibly groan.

"About to be dragged off by my wife to go shop for the alien woman," The older man sighed, not in the slightest impressed as he sat down next to him, his hand searching for a cigarette. "Thanks Joachim, really, we're on the verge of being attacked and you have me shopping for bloody dresses and make up for the S _ky Aryan_."

Hoch took another drink and offered it to Langer, who eyed the bottle wearily and shook his head. Shrugging, the grieving SS officer took another deep gulp before he closed the lid and turned back to his mentor.

"Consider it payback for having me go get medical treatment in orbit of the _fucking_ moon," he grumbled mutinously.

Langer had the good sense not to laugh that he was responsible for putting a human in space by having a single conversation with Admiral Zorah. Still, he looked rather pleased with himself. Taking the bottle from Joachim, Langer took a swig and handed it back to him.

"My wife said you sounded upset on the phone."

Joachim eyed him wearily. He shrugged and rolled up his left sleeve, revealing the sleek, transparent cybernetic arm he now possessed, earning a wide eyed stare from Langer, who had heard of it but Hoch refused to show to anyone but the quarians.

"Just having an off day, I suppose." Joachim lied reassuringly. "Lost my arm, you know, it's difficult to deal with."

Langer nodded, sympathetic to Hoch's plight. His finger touched against the Obersturmbannführer machine arm. Joachim flinched; the thought that machinery would give that sensitive a sensation was surprising to say the least.

"Interesting…" Langer mused curiously. "I assume you broke my glass with this?"

Again Joachim nodded and they fell into an uncomfortable silence. Langer sighed and stole the bottle of scotch from out of Hoch's hand, taking a swig and passing it back. Joachim drank next and smirked slightly.

"I-I got myself into a situation they don't teach you at officer school," Hoch spoke up out of the blue, the scotch loosening his tongue. "I'm in some sort of a... well, a thing, with Hanala'Jarva."

They stared at each other for a long moment. It did not take long for Gerald Langer to burst out into laughter as he finished digesting where Joachim was coming from. Joachim buried his face with his hands. He should not have said a single damn word to him.

"Hoch, I was only _teasing_ you back in bloody Poland. I wasn't being serious!" Langer exclaimed wide eyed at his drunk subordinate's admission. "My daughter rejects you for a Heer grunt, so you go ahead and _taste-test_ the quarian?!"

Somehow, the old man and the closest man who ever came to being a father to Joachim managed to laugh even harder, further darkening the drunken Obersturmbannführer's cheeks. It was so bad that Langer was clutching his stomach as he shook.

"It-it was your fault..." Joachim blamed, his eyes drooped half closed as he took another drink. "Shacking us up on the ship to Tripoli... that woman shot down a RAF pilot and five minutes later, decided I would make a nice body pillow. She had a bloody terrifying talent at killing people."

Joachim watched as Langer exploded with laughter even higher and was reduced into a messy combination of coughs and giggles as his face too went red at the predicament he set Hoch and Hanala into. The coughing subsided, leaving nothing but giggles as Lager dried the tears of laughter from out of his eyes.

"Fucking tease..." Joachim mumbled in his stupor. "Hanala is a damn tease..."

Langer grinned widely as he nodded.

"All women are, or is she your first woman?" he sagely responded. He paused, smirked, and added, "So am I going to get any details?"

Joachim widened his eyes and shook his head wildly at such a thought as giving his friend such details.

"I watched Hanala lose her temper and chase an SAS commando across the Libyan sands and stab him to death, and she did this more than once..." Joachim firmly stated as he still shook head. "No way in hell am I going to spill details."

Joachim gave one look to Langer, took another deep drink and sighed, resigned that he was going to spill his guts regardless.

"Well... she has this cybernetic implant under her breast..." He admitted, perking Langer's attention tenfold.

"Nice breasts?" Was Gerald next question, Joachim gave him a look. Finally the drunken Obersturmbannführer gave a low whistle.

Langer sighed enviously. For a couple ruthless bastards, it was funny how something as mundane as breasts could amuse them.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

It was late by the time Lene Langer came back to the museum, her husband and several SS men were packing in many packages bought by Hoch on her behalf. It was too much, much too much; but she could not simply reject it.

She spent an hour in her old room, digging through the many boxes until she found a perfect first outfit to wear. A simple white dress, with a somewhat low cut at the front, a light cardigan, as Lene had described it; Lene even helped her with her first application of makeup, something that quarians used, but pretty much ceased with the advent of the exile.. It brought a more human element to her face. It would be useful for closer interaction with human civilian life.

It wasn't long before Lene was dragged away from Langer, who was both exhausted playing 'pack mule' for his wife and was in a real need for dinner. So Lene left, leaving Hanala all by herself. As she finished making her straight edged hair curl just slightly, she decided that she was ready. She left the room, her long boots clicking against marble as she nearly bounced down the hallway, and turned left, opening the door to the room that she now slept in with Joachim.

All thoughts of showing herself off to the human vanished.

Hanala widened her eyes as she stared at the slumped over human she had come to care so much for. Joachim sat there, slumped over and staring at the floor idly. He looked so lost. He was a far cry of the man she had come to think as near unbreakable. His hand reached up and took another drink from his bottle, doing so his eyes fell on to hers.

"Hey now…you look very beautiful, Hanala... really beautiful..."he murmured, his eyes closed as he gave a slight smile.

In spite of her concern, Hanala allowed him a sweet smile as she flattened her long dress; she leaned down before the drunk human. One hand fell onto his cheek; the other quietly took the mostly emptied bottle out of his hand. All Joachim could do was grumble out a moaning protest that sounded so pathetic to hear. He glanced upwards again.

"Joachim... Joachim, what _happened_?" she whispered softly as her hand fell over his. "You can tell me... You can tell me anything..."

Joachim didn't answer. He instead blinked furiously and looked almost ready to throw up. Considering that the bottle had been mostly drunk, she was surprised that he hadn't gotten sick. He seemed to swallow and shook his head, His hand ran through his hair, knocking the cap off his head and dropping it to the floor.

"You know… the last thing I ever said to my mother was I genuinely _hated_ her..." He mumbled to himself. "A cliché position I suppose, but I did. I _haaated_ her _."_

Joachim shook his head and started to laugh. It was unnatural laughter that made Hanala freeze. Laughter that quickly turned into a sudden uncontrollable sobs as the man hid his face from the woman sitting before him. Hanala's hand touched against his, forcing the man to dry his eyes with his sleeve and turned to look up at her.

"There was a bombing raid this morning in Kiel." He admitted to her, his face pale, his eyes red. "My mother was killed."

The words numbed Hanala to her core. Her hand flew up, covering her mouth as Joachim drooped his head, his eyes staring at the bottle now behind her. The last of Joachim's family was gone. Though she knew how estranged he had grown with his mother, it was clear to her that the estrangement did not offset the agony of the loss.

"Joachim... I'm sorry... I'm so _sorry_ …" was all Hanala could say. It wasn't much but what could one properly say to a grief stricken person? There was nothing she could do but offer him hollow words; and it wasn't as though he would take much comfort in them. Not when he had nothing but clear antipathy for her… or so he suggested.

The intoxicated human shook his head.

"I... should have listened to you." He mumbled under his breath. "I didn't speak to her... I should have spoken with her... So much to say to her... so much... It's too late... much too late for that."

This regret he felt and confessed… she hoped it was more than just the copious alcohol consumption speaking.

"It wasn't your fault, Joachim" Hanala reassured him, her voice growing higher than it was supposed to be, How could you have known that this was her last day.. All you can do is remember the moments you have had with her... the happy moments before you two had your fight."

Joachim looked up as though she had back handed him.

"There _weren't_ any good moments!" he exploded, his face contorting into a look of rage that she had never seen from him before. "I was just an _afterthought_ to the two of them, Hanala! A last ditch means to bring back happiness into my parents' lives that were lost when their real sons died. My parents weren't miserable bastards before... before the first war happened. Well I didn't help them in the _slightest_... I-I failed them the moment I was born… that's all I've been to everyone. Failure…"

Hanala watched as the man's jaw hung open, his eyes darting around the room and to her furiously. Joachim looked close to hyperventilating. She leaned in, her hand touching his chest as she pressed her forehead against his in an act to sooth him. It somewhat worked, his rapid shallow breathing stemmed off back into self-control.

He pulled back from her, his head held low. He ran his hands over his eyes and attempted reassert his dominance over his openness.

"Doesn't matter..." he finished, his voice hardening as though he was over it. "She's dead and I'm alive... better her than I... I suppose."

The quarian still holding the human blinked. How could he say such a thing, was he trying shift his grief away from her? He really didn't have to. She didn't think it was weak for a man to cry, though apparently Joachim felt that way.

"Joachim, you don't have to be strong all the time..." she spoke soothingly to the silent officer. "You're allowed to grieve. You may not have had the best relationship with her, but she was your mother, she birthed you, raised you the best she could…"

Hanala paused as Joachim's eyes stared at her.

"I will not pretend to know what your life was like as a boy," she conceded to the suddenly glaring man. "However, right now you're clouded with grief. One day soon any good moments you have had with her will be remembered... and if that happens or not. You know I will be here for you regardless."

With the tension now broken, Joachim sighed, rubbing his tired, drunk eyes. He pulled back to inspect her empathetic gaze carefully. She felt his eyes travel from head to toe, taking in her appearance in his drunken state. The grief was gone, replacing it with regret for being in such a terrible state in her company. Slowly he stood back up from the floor, with Hanala doing her best not to collapse underneath his weight as she assisted him.

Not that she would mind it if he was in a more sober state... all she could really think about lately was their first night back on Earth. The temptation she put him through, how much she actually wanted to go through with it... the only reason she hadn't well.. Shared his bed properly was mostly due to the guilt she felt. Between him being primitive, and her mother's strange loathing of non-quarians.

They weren't very different. Joachim and she both sought approval from their mothers. At least she could still stand up to hers; at least she still had a mother to go home to.

"Sorry that I ruined your big reveal... you do look pretty…" Joachim spoke again, his voice filled with genuine regret for his actions. Hanala smiled slightly and decided it was best to lighten the mood. She leaned in and pressed her lips carefully against the side of his mouth

"I know I am pretty," she replied as she pulled away. "Telling me I'm pretty only feeds my vanity."

The two shared a look and finally, Joachim broke down into a fit of real laughter. Hanala smiled. Having Joachim laughing was much nicer than watching him cry.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 **Changes: I have been making a conscious effort to less the romantic nature between Hanala and Joachim this early in the story. It's still there, but they are more repressed about it. Noticed a glaring historical inaccuracy involving mass production of FG-42 early 1942 when the production run didn't start a year after that. Deleted a scene and moved it to the next chapter, standard tidying up, but thankfully it's much smoother than the space chapter had been.**

 **Next update will be most likely tomorrow morning. Thanks for reading!**


	16. The Trap Is Sprung

**Chapter Sixteen: The Trap Is Sprung**

 **…**

It was midnight before they all silently marched to their relay point.

To say the tension was unbearable was to understate it. This was by far the deepest commando raid behind enemy lines since... well... ever. They were technically marching on German soil; the first Englishmen to do so in many years. At any goddamn point, a million swarming, pissed off Jerries could land right on top of them and they would have been powerless to do anything but die.

Of course none of this fazed Lachlan Angus Shepard in the slightest. This was his big chance to humiliate those Nazis on their own home soil. For years they tried to do it to Britain. The invasion attempts that failed, the failed air attacks, and the failed blockade. If it wasn't for the Heer holding fast, the war would have been over. Every other aspect of the German Army failed absolutely everything.

"Well, what do you think?" Shepard spoke to _'Mad Jack'_ Churchill with a mildest of smirks that was buried behind his massive beard. "Pretty little nation for a bunch of blood sucking, Nazi cunts."

Unfazed by the display of linguistic skill shown off by the angry Scotsmen, Churchill re-slung his bow and raised his Bren gun at the tree line that sounded unnaturally quiet. Lachlan and the rest of his men noticed the reaction and them to ready themselves. This was kraut territory, their backyard. They could not be too careful.

"Shepard, send the signal," he muttered under his breath.

Lachlan nodded and dug into his pouch, producing a small clicker. He raised the small toy and clicked three times in quick succession. He slipped it away and raised his Sten at the bushes.

"We're coming out!" a voice spoke in clean English.

The bushes rustled and out stepped two men dressed in civilian clothing, welding older weapons from the turn of the century. The two of them moved at a ducking run to the commando group, who shared looks of amusement at the sight of the inexperienced young men stopping before them, staring excitedly at the team of commandos that had come to make their month of spying on the Nazis all worthwhile.

"Michael Biedermeier, this is my partner Rolf... and you?" the older of the two finally spoke, his English surprisingly good. The Resistance man squinted and stared at the compound bow slung around Churchill's shoulder.

Lachlan could not help but laugh, earning the roll of his superior officer's eyes.

"Lieutenant Colonel Jack Churchill, my second-in-command, Lachlan Shepard." Churchill made the introductions. "O5, I presume?"

The two men that greeted the Special Air Services team nodded their heads in acknowledgement.

"Welcome to Austria," the first young man greeted the commando team, shifting his stolen MP-34 to one side. "We've procured transport. We'll be taking you to the edge of the city. We'll make camp and wait for tomorrow evening."

 _Tomorrow evening_? No, they had to hit the Germans as hard as they could as soon as they could. Now had they been in any of the occupied nations, this would not have been as big a problem. But this was Hitler's birth country. Every moment they stayed in the Austrian countryside meant a greater chance of detection, If not by the Nazis, then by the brainwashed masses.

"Wait, we need to hit the city now, quick and quiet, sir. We shouldn't be around here any longer then we ought to be," Shepard reminded the smaller Churchill. The resistance member turned from the commando leader to Shepard.

"There's been an influx of the Heer in the capital," he spoke to the bearded giant. "Do not worry though. It's routine. They'll be heading off to Russia by tomorrow night. You have a long distance to flee and you know you can't stop two panzer and an infantry division, it would be wise to keep the German reaction to a minimum for as long as possible, yes?"

The two commandos glanced at each other briefly before they climbed into the truck. Though they had no doubt they could inflict hell on the Vienna garrison. It was probably best they did not die in the attempt.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

Hanala opened her eyes as she absorbed the noise of a groggy snoring that was breathed right into her chest. She smiled slightly at the mess of surprisingly soft dark toned hair almost covering her line of sight. He hand idly worked through the dishevelled hair belonging to Joachim. It was decided by her the first time she woke from her slumber that she would not wake him, nor disturb him with her own lack of comfort. Being crushed by a man quite easily twice her size, naturally built denser than her wasn't easy on her.

She could not imagine what was going in in his head at the moment. A variety of conflicting emotions for what had happened was staining his thoughts. It was clear that he held little love to his family. But the love was there, if only to grieve. It was troubling to see him collapse. He had been such a bastion of strength. Sure he had a few weak moments, notably his injuries and reaction to leaving Earth,

 _"This is Chief of Security Otto Skorzeny_ ," a loud voice called over the intercom system. _"I am calling a meeting. Standartenfuhrer Langer and Obersturmbannführer Hoch, please report to the main entrance in ten minutes."_

Hanala sighed as Joachim stirred and groaned, his rest disturbed by the bosh'tet. Skorzeny would be lucky not to be punched in the throat by her.

Before she could react, Joachim was off her body and was standing up, he was already half dressed with the uniform he wore yesterday. It was unkempt but that did not bother the man, who was clearly still upset with the loss he had suffered.

With his boots and jacket on, Joachim turned back and placed his Officer cap onto Hanna's head, earning a slight protesting chirp from the woman, who sat up, groggy and sore from the weight of the human on her for so many hours.

"I have to go and see him before he shoots me or something," Hoch grumbled, checking the time and searching for his cigarettes. "I don't think rank means much to him."

Handing Hanala a cigarette of her own, he lit it and leaned in to press his lips to her cheek. Without any more words to say, he left leaving Hanala taking a long careful drag from the cigarette. Whatever that the English had on their minds, Hanala hoped it would soon be ended. They were seriously cutting into her alone time with Joachim.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Skorzeny, it seemed to Joachim, did not like the quarians.

It was either that or he did not trust them. Regardless, when he had called together a meeting for him and Langer he specifically made sure that the highest ranking officer in the museum - Admiral Halid'Zorah - was not invited. He had no time for intergalactic politics was his excuse. He had to deal with a team of Englishman already in the country.

Langer, who appeared bemused by being ordered around by the temporary security chief, did not offer any sort of protest. Skorzeny at least had the good sense to request that the meeting be held at lunch for them. Joachim needed food in him and Langer, knowing Hoch, made sure that he ate everything despite not wanting to eat, from buttered toast to salted pork. The two of them ate in silence, not paying mind to the strange eyes belonging to Skorzeny burning holes into their skulls.

Food came first in their books, lectures a distant second.

"We were fortunate not to be attacked last night, yes?" Langer called out to Skorzeny as he swallowed a piece of toast. Skorzeny raised his brow and simply nodded his head.

"Gestapo operatives in the O5 are in place. They report that the English had been convinced to delay that attack until tonight," Skorzeny continued, looking away from the two of them to his own lunch. "As per instructions left by Reichsführer Himmler, I am assuming command for the duration of the raid. My word is law and I expect that all of you will heed it."

Langer and Hoch shared a look. The two of them tried not to laugh at the Security Chief. Skorzeny cleared his throat, once more receiving the rapt attention of the two men who were doing their best not laugh at the commando.

"Herr Langer," Skorzeny directed his attention to Langer with some respect in his voice for the man. "When was the last time you saw combat?"

Langer thought about the question.

"The last months of the First World War," he confessed like it was sort of funny.

Hoch widened his eyes at the admission. It had been that long?

"The Great War?" Hoch repeated incredulously. "Jesus, I didn't think you were that old."

Langer shoved his pupil, and Skorzeny ignored the banter given by the younger man.

"I'm putting you in charge of the SS unit stationed here," Skorzeny spoke again to the two of them. "I want you on the radio at all times, directing the troops as reports come in."

Langer nodded blankly, acknowledging the role he would be playing. Satisfied with his complacent, Skorzeny turned his attention to Hoch, his demeanour growing much stiffer as he had to focus on the younger man.

"Hoch, you speciality appears to be the quarians, you will be managing them. You will be keeping them from joining this fight," Skorzeny continued. "Our secondary objective is to insure the survival of an officer. We need to know what English Intelligence thinks they know. However, Should anyone infiltrate past the top levels of the museum, you kill anyone who does so. No one gets a whiff of what we're hiding here."

Reluctant, Joachim nodded his head acknowledging Skorzeny's orders. Why couldn't those who knew of the raid not just simply scare the English into not going through with it? It seemed like such a pointless that was about to occur. He wasn't a commando, so he suppose he did not know the rational; something involving sending a message no doubt.

"I wish I was drunk," Joachim moaned next to Langer, who cracked a mild grin, only to make it disappear instantly as Skorzeny's hard, no nonsense eyes glared at the two of them. Joachim sighed and cleared his throat.

"I understand and will try to follow your plan," Hoch reassured the security chief the best he could. "The thing is the quarians are by no means a passive people. Do you have any idea how hard it'll be to keep Hanala'Jarva from wanting to join the fight?"

Skorzeny did not offer an answer, but Langer sure as hell did as he leaned into Hoch's ear.

 _"You could always slip it to her. Ride her raw until the attack is over..."_ Langer whispered into his shocked pupil's ear. _"Bet she would be open to that."_

Hoch's face went red; his body shook with laughter that he kept suppressed. He turned from Langer to Skorzeny, who sat there with his arms crossed, unaware of the subject Langer had just brought up.

"I've seen your record before coming here, Herr Hoch, I'm going to trust that you can do it," Skorzeny concluded, standing up from the end of the table, drinking his glass of juice in one mouthful. "I only need two things from you, Hoch: Keep the aliens under control and stay the hell out of my way. Understood?"

Hoch stared for a moment before he nodded. He would listen and hope that once that this operation was over Skorzeny would vanish back to wherever the asshole came from.

 _"This may come as a shock to you, but I don't think he likes you… not that I can blame him,"_ Langer whispered to the Obersturmbannführer as Skorzeny marched out of the room.

Hoch could only laugh as he stood up, shaking his mentor's hand briefly before he left to check in on his charges: The quarians. Hopefully Hanala would understand of why he could not have her roaming the museum shooting any Englishman she saw.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

As it turned out, Hanala was not by any means understanding about not being allowed to fight.

" _I'm not allowed to fight_?!" she hissed incredulously to the announcement made by Hoch. "It's because I'm a woman, isn't it!"

Joachim pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a mental note never to make Hanala infuriated, quarian women it seemed came with a much higher pitch when angered, or at least that was just Hanala slipping away from rationality to the atypical irrationality that plagued women in general.

"Or it could be because you're not human to begin with," he offered an alternative theory to the fuming woman, who was pacing. "We can't very well risk this getting out, now can we?"

Glaring at Hoch for the statement by the man, Hanala took a seat on the bed. She stripped off her dress and sat there in her undergarments. Hoch did his utmost to ignore the suggestion offered by Langer. Riding her raw was tempting, but now was neither the time nor the place for it.

Speaking of Langer, it was probably best that Hanala knew that Langer knew. The last thing Langer needed was getting his throat cut by a startled and angered quarian for knowing such a thing as whatever was going on between the two of them.

"So I expect you might get some words from Langer in the near future..." Joachim finally spoke, his voice guilty as she turned her bright eyes back onto him. "I might have accidentally slipped out that a... thing was happening between us."

Hanala shot him a look and turned away. She opened up one of his drawers and pulled out Joachim's Waffen-SS battle fatigues. Not for him to wear, but for her.

"My family more or less figured something is happening between us, I can't judge you if you tell him," she spoke simply as she pulled the jacket over her body. Hoch nodded blankly as she turned and bent over to pull the trousers on next, her bottom memorizing the human briefly before shaking his head.

"Well... Langer is the closest thing I've ever had to a Father," Hoch informed the woman, catching her attention as she buttoned the trousers. "He trained me back in 1935. You can thank him for my attitude. I do not think I really had it before he came along."

Smirking, Hanala sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on the combat boots next. Joachim could not help but smirk as well. She had a fascination with his clothing, with the desire to blend in as a whole. It was admirable he silently admitted as she finished with the boots and pulled on his M41 forage cap.

Finished, she stood up and stepped slightly as jackboots could towards him, her expression offering him a slight smile as she closed the gap between the two of them.

"You know, Langer suggested I should keep you distracted during the attack. I kind of like the way he thinks…" he admitted as her long hands touched against his chest, his eyes staring into her. Now that he was used to the bright eyes, he could make out the small pupils buried behind the lights.

Hanna's smile widened. She knew what he was implying. Instead of replying, her hands pulled back slightly and readjusted his uniform for him.

"Perhaps once this is over..." She mused to him.

Smirking at the blank nod, Hanala stepped back and collected her MKB-42 from against the bedside table. She turned back, still smiling coyly at him.

"Until then, I must relay this to Admiral Zorah before he gets nervous," she murmured to him. "I'll see you in a bit."

Joachim nodded and watched as Hanala left the room and headed to the sub levels of the museum, where they stored the ship. Pushing the thoughts of sex out of his head, he fished for a cigarette and looked at the time. It was five at night now; it was time to get ready.

The British were coming.

 **...**

* * *

 **…**

It was midnight before it was decided by Michael Beidermeier that it was safe enough to make an approach. Churchill agrees, so the O5 cell drove them into the city. Vienna was peaceful, it would not be that way for long however, Shepard determined with a mild grin.

The unit unloaded with the best wishes given to them by the resistance fighter who wanted to join the fight but was ordered by Churchill to stay with the truck. They needed their Austrian driver more than they needed an extra hand fighting the Nazis.

It took about ten minutes to get into place, a slow moving weave of commandos that did their best to stay out of the sight of any potential snipers and observation posts the German's may have set up, but so far nothing. In fact, the closest thing to a guard was a roaming SS man, smoking a cigarette idly.

Churchill pulled his compound bow and an arrow from off his back and took aim, hitting the kraut in the throat killing him nearly instantly. The Commandos all shared grins at the sight of the arrow kill. They had all been waiting for a month to see that happen.

They pressed on, hiding the dead German before they finally reached the outer parameter. They squinted and found the whole place to be clear of any sign of German as expected. Biedermeier explained why this was so. He had said that the O5 had been making minor raids at the front gate to keep the Nazis on edge. German's were never known for subtly he made the case.

Shepard had to agree. The only man who gave German's any measure of real guile was in the desert, harassing the English.

Together, the team cut through the chain link fence and crept slowly into the perimeter, their eyes wandering, searching for any sign of more krauts in the area.

"Sounds like everyone went to bed," one of the men behind the two leaders spoke up.

As though it was a case of bad karma cursing the commando whom had spoken, the whole museum grounds was suddenly lit up with spotlights. Churchill and Shepard along with every Commando froze in place. The ominous sound of Nazi jackboots scampered from high above them, their weapons cocked and trained upon the unit below them.

Well now… they were _fucked_. Shepard decided as he held his Sten at the Germans above them. They were one hundred percent _fucked_.

They may have been in trouble in Shepard's eyes, but strangely, none of the Germans fired as the commandos had expected. They simply stood there, waiting for an order. As tempted as he was to take the first shot, it just would not be worth it. Not when this lack of shooting told him something much different was at play here.

The quietness broke as another pair of boots took his place by the men who had surrounded the Commando squad Churchill squinted, his hand shielding out the spot light. Shepard too squinted and found that another man was on the balcony now. Dressed in different battle fatigues than the boys he commanded. Waffen-SS fatigues.

He raised the spotlight, well the one spotlight next to him from out of the Commando's eyes so that they should see the man who had set up the trap. He looked not much younger than Churchill but he looked much more the part of the vicious Nazi than any other man he had seen. He face was nothing but scars and a sinister skull like grin.

Though Shepard was moved, Churchill was not.

"Is there something I can help you with?!" Churchill asked of the tall officer, his words dry.

"You are surrounded, you have no chance to flee, and there will be no rescue party for you," the bear of a Nazi officer spoke down to the group in heavily accented English. "I am not an unreasonable man. Give up now and I will make sure that you all are placed in a proper prisoner of war facility. You have my word you will all be treated with the dignity you deserve."

The Nazi paused.

"It takes a lot of guts to land this far into my country," he complimented the commando's, his voice sounding genuine. "I can respect your curiosity, so long as you do not put up a futile fight."

Churchill, glanced to Shepard, he looked somewhat amused.

"I'm afraid we have to decline," Churchill spoke almost regretfully to the German. "See, all we wanted to do was poke around this museum, I reckon it must be interesting if you feel a need to jump on anything that so much as approaches this place," he paused and added. "You know, I always figured museums are public domain."

The German nodded his head gravely.

"They are and in any other circumstance during peace time, we would like your patronage." The German replied as though he was the head curator of the place. "I'm afraid that whatever your superiors have been terribly mistaken. This is just a tired SS unit bunking with Fallschirmjägers and panzer crews. Now once more I must ask that you lay down your arms and spare us the bloodshed. No one needs to die here tonight. Not you, not I."

Shepard nudged Churchill, who glanced briskly to the younger man at his side.

"Should we tell what you did to that Fritz?" Shepard mumbled to his superior officer, earning a nervous laughter from the rest of the team. Churchill gave him a look and turned back to the speaking German, who had just raised his MP-40 at the group.

"I'm afraid I that I have lied, Herr...?"

The man aiming his MP-40 looked up from the submachine gun's sights, his scar glistening as his mouth contorted into a mild grin at the formality being offered by the Englishman.

"Skorzeny," He introduced himself to the Englishman. "Otto Skorzeny."

Churchill offered the German a surprising salute.

"Otto Skorzeny? Lieutenant Colonel Jack Churchill, at your service," Jack introduced himself in turn.

Skorzeny's eyes widened at the name. He knew exactly the kind of man he had in his gun sights. He lowered his MP-40 slightly, a show of respect offered to his foe.

"From the stories of your activities in Norway, I was expecting you look less like an fragile English stereotype and more, like your colleague..." Skorzeny called down to Churchill, gesturing to the much bigger Shepard.

Churchill allowed a laugh to escape, his hand patting Shepard's shoulder.

"He's a Scot, but you can't hold that against him."

Ignoring the bristling coming off his second in command, Churchill sighed.

"Well anyways... I can appreciate your concern for limiting casualties and I can definitely commend you for seeking a peaceful means to end this little scrap with as little bloodshed as possible, which might I add is a very different thing to witness from a Jerry," was Churchill's response, "Unfortunately, you see, my men came here looking for a fight and I'm not one to disappoint them."

The men cracked a low rumbling laugh. Despite the fact they were all on the verge of being killed.

"More unfortunately for you, it's going to take a bit more than an ambush to stop us," the Commando pressed on, smiling to the scar faced German. "Though I have to admit, this may be the first time I've witnessed an ounce of cunning from your stock, bravo... really, bravo..."

Churchill lowered his Bren and offered the one known as Skorzeny a polite, if mocking, clap of his hands.

The noise of Otto Skorzeny pulling the hammer back of his MP-40 and a slight, regretful sigh escaping his lips was the response. It may have been a trick of the light, but the bear in the Waffen-SS uniform actually looked almost upset that this had been Churchill's decision.

"Do you realize that this is a course towards certain death?!" the German cried out to the Englishmen below. "There is no escape plan now! The O5 was rounded up arrested on treason charges two days ago, the men you travelled with to get here were Gestapo agents… leading you all right into the slaughter!"

Shepard's blood froze in his veins... the men they travelled with. Michael Beidermeier , Rolf... both of them belong to the most vilified secret police known to man, perhaps only topped by the pigs in the NKVD? Oh God... what the hell did they end up in? How long could the krauts have had this mission in their sights?

One look at Churchill showed nothing but resolve. Lachlan closed his eyes and thought about his wife and sons. He wasn't coming home from this.

"Tomorrow the whole cell will all be hung for treason in front of the gloating public - at request of Reinhard Heydrich. If you know one thing about Heydrich, this won't just be limited to the captives," Skorzeny continued, earning a twitch from Churchill at the mention of the butcher of Prague. "Their families, friends, their _pets_ will be rounded up and either shot, hung or shipped off to God knows where. Firing a single shot at us does not just condemn your team but dozens of misguided civilians and potentially a hundred or so innocent people."

Churchill didn't budge.

"They are my countrymen, Herr Churchill," the Waffen-SS soldier spoke again, his voice growing more and more desperate. "They belong here in Vienna, here in my home, my birthplace, not some godforsaken prison camp. I do not want this... I can save their lives you just help me. _Please_ , will you help me?"

Churchill's face remained unmoved by Skorzeny's unnatural pleading.

Skorzeny paused his ranting as he took in the expression of stubborn defiance etched into Churchill's face. He looked sympathetic to the Austrian pleads, but unmoved. Skorzeny laughed slightly, his head shaking.

"We're not much different you and I..." the leader of the ambush spoke again as a last ditch effort. "Surrendering is the best and only alternative we have. Is snooping in this museum worth it? You can save the lives of your teams and the men and women who stood on the wrong side of history. Do the right thing, I don't want this blood on my hands; I should think you feel the same way. Your leaders have chosen yet another path that will cause certain, pointless death. But we can stop it together if you just back down."

The last fight in Skorzeny died down. He stared expectantly at Churchill, who actually seemed to be fidgeting, actually appeared to be debating the words offered by the strange Nazi. He turned to Shepard, who shrugged. He would stand by Churchill regardless.

"No." Was Jack Churchill's final decision, his voice low and reluctant from the tone he spoke in. "I'm sorry, but... no. It's too late for that, much too late. I'm sure you understand that as well."

Reluctantly, Skorzeny raised his readied MP-40 and aimed it down to the Englishmen below. Churchill too raised his Bren.

"I do, Herr Churchill. For what it's worth, I'm sorry as well," Skorzeny spoke softly to the group. With one last gentlemanly smile to the English, He turned to his men.

 _ **"FIRE!"**_

The high ground held by the German's exploded in a wide array of fire. The high ground of the museum grounds exploded as well in 20mm fire. The snow they stood on was coated with blood as the Commandos struggled to find cover, many fell, wounded or dead.

The Commando team still standing or searching for cover fired back to the German's on the high grounds., killing a few of the ambushers, but not enough to make a dent and nowhere near to the amount of Englishmen now killed.

In unison, Churchill and Shepard and the rest of the team -fifteen in all, managed to find just enough cover behind a cement wall. Firing the last rounds in his Bren gun, Churchill fell back against the wall and turned to Shepard, unhinging the Bren magazine.

"Take your team and flank, Shepard. Find an alternate route. We'll cover your withdrawal." Churchill ordered his second in command as he fumbled to reload. "Get inside and find out what in the hell is happening inside."

Reluctant to abandon Churchill, leaving him out manned and outgunned, Shepard turned to the last of his own squad -five men and together, they silently fled as Churchill and the last of his Commandos held the German's attention.

 **...**

* * *

 **…**

 _"This is Standartenführer Langer, We have reports of commando's infiltrating the defenses and are now inside. First platoon, reinforce the defenses, second and third stay alert and report in!"_

Joachim glanced up to the report given by Langer and turned back to Hanala, who was now officially much more armed than he was. In her hands was one of the exotic quarian assault rifles, her face twisted in a look of furious anger.

"Are these the same sort of men who killed Galas'Yoad and tortured us?" she demanded to know from him.

Joachim nodded his head. He did not need words for her to understand. Her face grew even more upset at the acknowledgement. She looked like that fateful day in the desert. She wanted blood, she wanted blood and revenge. Joachim lifted his MP-40 up from the table and loaded it, his eyes glancing to Hanala who was now shaking.

God help any Englishmen who came in here with ill intent.

 **...**

* * *

 **…**

 _ **"PANZER!"**_

Shepard nearly froze as Hitchens screamed the word that brought the most fear into his heart. He turned and found a long barrelled Panzer IV rolling up to him, camouflaged as though it had been a bush and supported, oddly enough by a small squad of a Panzerless tank crew; four men armed with submachine guns and rifles.

Shepard fired on them, forcing the group behind the tank. The Tank fired back, two MG-34's and the main 75mm gun on the armoured vehicle exploded overhead of them, the round flew his and exploded against the side of the museum, blasting an entrance for them.

The team took cover behind a concrete divider. Occasionally they shot to suppress the Panzer crew fighting on the ground. Shepard was breathing hard as he tried to figure out what was next, whether they should risk running to the main doors or take the shortcut.

A bullet flew over his head, nearly taking his life. He had no choice now.

"Come on boys, into the hole on the double!" He ordered, gesturing to the torn open museum. "Hitchens, help me with some covering fire, the rest of you set up a parameter inside!"

Together, Hitchens and Shepard raised their Sten's and sprayed the tank, once again forcing the tankers back behind the Panzer. It wasn't much but the four men that bolted managed to get inside of the museum safely.

Shepard turned to Hitchens.

"You're next, go!"

Before he could react, Hitchens was shredded open by a mixture of MG and Submachine gun fire. His body flopped to the ground. Closing his eyes and offering him a small prayer, Shepard gathered himself and charged from the cover and into the hole left by the tank round.

He thought he was safe once he got out of the sight of the tank. He was wrong and his unit paid for it. The hole provided an easy entrance, but inside the blast point was the main barracks of the SS guard. Some of them were dead, but most of them scattered as the Shepard opened fire, combining his fire with the rest of his squad, down to three men now.

As the SS guard reorganized and counter attacked, Shepard bolted out of the little cover they had. Standing in an empty doorway, he turned to the last of his men still furiously holding off the SS the best they could.

 _ **"COME ON."**_ He screamed to his men. _**"WE GOTTA MOVE!"**_

 **...**

* * *

 **…**

Churchill had vanished, as did the rest of his unit. They simply vanished into the night, like ghosts.

Otto Skorzeny could not have been more enraged and more frightened than he had ever been in his entire life. He did the count. Twelve dead SS men, fifteen dead Fallschirmjägers, eight wounded, a destroyed 20mm flak gun and its whole crew and his pride damaged beyond all recognition.

He shouldn't have given any leniency to Churchill. It was just hard to turn a gun on a man whom he respected more than most of the men in his own military.

Not anymore now. He wanted this bastard's blood.

Growling lowly, Skorzeny turned to the closest man with a radio.

"Radio Operator, I want you to prepare the ground attack squadron for action," Skorzeny started but was cut off with a familiar noise.

The roar of an Opel Blitz engine forced his attention back to the battlefield. It came down the side of the hill, running at full speed, what remained of the Commando team was in the back, firing on the high ground, killing several. Behind the wheel was Churchill.

It wasn't the audacious actions of the SAS that caught him off guard. It was the fact that they had bolted a man to the front of the truck as though it was a human battering ram. He knew the man too. It was the Gestapo agent that had arrested the O5 cell and had led the English straight into the trap in the first place

Skorzeny had to hand it to Churchill. He really wouldn't want to be the one to try to sell him out.

"Shoot the Commandos!" He screamed, raising his MP-40 once again and fired on the men standing and shooting at them.

Under any other circumstances, he would have shot out the engine and brought the truck to a standstill, however he held no love for the men in the Gestapo. If Churchill wanted his revenge, then he sure as hell was going to grant the Englishman it.

The truck with the screaming Gestapo agent latched to the front of the vehicle smashed into the back doors with a sickening crunch, the vehicle was inside the museum. Grinning at the fate of the slimy Gestapo agent, Skorzeny turned to the men still standing.

"Leave the wounded with the medics," Skorzeny spoke to his men. "They've breached the parameter. Let's move."

Together, Skorzeny, a platoon of SS men sent by Langer and Fallschirmjägers rushed back into the museum to mop up the last of the raid.

 **...**

* * *

 **…**

The last of his team fell, a young guy, no more than twenty. He was shot in the side with a bolt action rifle. Must have had shattered his heart. Lachlan turned faced and shot down the black uniformed German. He ejected the magazine, dropping it as he reached into his side bag for another Sten magazine that did not exist.

Swearing loudly as two SS men stepped out of the hallway in front of him, he ducked for cover, dropping his Sten and pulling his 9mm Browning Hi-Power out. He pushed the gun around the corner blind fired; hoping beyond hope that the much better armed kraut fuckers would duck.

They did just that, giving Shepard just enough time to run across the hall, one hand pulling the pistol's trigger at them, the other digging out and throwing a live grenade at them. He slammed i into the opposite room before the two reorganized and fired back.

The grenade exploded, the two men screamed and died, a clear sign that Shepard could emerge from the room. He continued down the hallway, his pistol drawn at the smoking bodies. One of them emitted a low, wounded groan and tried to move. Shepard responded with a bullet in the man's head.

Glancing around the corner from where they came from and finding it clear, Shepard continued on.

...

…

For the first time since school, Otto Skorzeny had found himself in the middle of a duel.

The fight between the commandos and the Fallschirmjägers and SS men raged on, Skorzeny had found that Churchill had separated from his unit in an effort to lure at least a couple of the soldiers away from his men. Admirable, but it would not work. Skorzeny ordered the rest of his men to press the attack on the barely holding on commandos as he hunted down Churchill personally.

That had been half an hour ago. The gunfire of the larger firefight had died down, leaving only him and Churchill as the ones with anything to shoot at. Well... that had been before he had run out of ammunition for his MP-40 and his pistol.

He glanced around the corner. He could see nothing. Perhaps he had breached the security, made it down to the sub levels. Worse yet, he reunited with the second in command and was now on the verge of killing Hoch. He would not have mind the Englishmen doing that, but not today, not no-

A loud whooshing of air passed by his head, sticking into the wall in from of him was a wooden arrow.

Wide eyed, Skorzeny looked up to find that Churchill was standing a good 40 yards away, furiously reloading his bow. Skorzeny blanched. The bow wasn't just for show?! He actually _used_ it!?

"Could you do me a small favour and hold still, will you?" Churchill requested politely as he pulled back the bow once again, and finding Skorzeny in his crosshairs once again.

Skorzeny decided against providing the crazed Englishman such a luxury. He ran.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 _ **"HALT!"**_

Shepard ignored the guard unit standing outside of a sand bagged barricaded door and instead answered by hitting the three men in front of him with enough bullets to kill ten men. They fell dead as Shepard continued his run. Behind him were more screams in German and the bark of machine gun fire. Shepard managed to duck, his side smashing into the doorway.

He found himself standing on a stair case. He leaned back and closed the door behind him. Taking a deep, calming breath he stepped down the staircase. Footsteps approached, forcing Shepard to freeze. The man turned the corner, causing Shepard to freeze.

Lanky, strange legs, two toes, three fingers and armed with a weapon that looked centuries more advance than anything he had ever seen before.

It wasn't a German.

 _"Kay'aua Vebrae!"_ The being screamed at him in a language that sounded like nothing more than chirping. It went for his gun, Shepard however was quicker and fired three quick rounds into the faceplate, smashing the glass and exploding the creatures head open. It fell to the ground limp as Shepard stood over it, his lips curled slightly as he stared at the thing in shock.

It wasn't human, it had sided with the Krauts and it wasn't human.

Shepard pushed the thoughts from out of his mind as he reloaded his last magazine. The creature could die just as quickly as any German he killed before him.

Suddenly a barrage of exotic rifle fire barked at him, smashing the wall next to him. Two more of the aliens were rushing up the stairway. Shepard ducked and pulled a grenade out of his bandoleer. Arming it, he threw it over the side, the bomb exploding at the feet of the two aliens approaching.

The two aliens were badly burned, limbs missing. Shepard did them a favour and shot the two beings dead before stepping off the stairway and running down the quiet, empty hall. He kicked in the door and found himself facing a sight.

It was some sort of massive ship, clearly damaged beyond usage, and two people standing in front of them. One a tall, Nazi officer, his Walther pistol pointing at Shepard coolly as he stood in front of the other occupant, A strangely shaped woman, who stood there glaring at him, her eyes were unnaturally bright, she was one of the aliens. Only this one was out of the exotic suit and wearing instead the fatigues of a Waffen-SS soldier. In her hands, the strange type of rifle that the other aliens had.

Shepard, worn out and beaten, spat a mouth full of blood on the floor.

Fuck.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 _ **"COME BACK HERE, GODDAMN YOU! I'M OUT OF ARROWS. STOP DODGING ME! I STILL HAVE MY SWORD TO SHOW YOU!"**_

Ignoring the shout coming from the rampaging Englishman, who had just dropped his bow and withdrew the sword in his hilt, Skorzeny press on his bolt, rounding the corner and escaping his chaser's line of sight. He was out of bullets and his dagger was far too short to fight the sword welding man.

What he needed was a sword of his own, and most unfortunately, the swords on display were either duplicates or dulled. He had no time to neither sharpen it, nor reach the makeshift armoury set up on the other end of the museum. He was much too tired to press on running.

As far as he could see it, he knew only one man who lived in this museum who had what he needed: A sword of his own. Turning another corner, he stopped for only a moment before he kicked in the door labelled private quarters for Obersturmbannführer Hoch.

He squinted around, breathing heavily. For an SS officer he sure had a lot of feminine clothing strewn across his room. Skorzeny shuddered, ignoring the horrible thought of Hoch being a homosexual, or worse… screwing one of the alien.

The thought of that three fingered freak, having sexual liaisons with the Obersturmbannführer burned into his brain, He moved deeper into the room. When he first met Hoch when he arrived back in Austria,

Buried under a dress, Skorzeny pulled it from its sheath and checked the blade. A ceremonial degen, the traditional straight edged sabre of the SS. It was sharp. It would have to do.

Skorzeny exhaled slowly, It was fragile compared to the beast the Englishman carried, bigger than the épée, which he was much more proficient in using. He had trained in sabre fencing, but it was so long ago.

Sword in hand, he stepped back out into the hallway. Churchill stood there; he had kicked in one of the doors, looking for Skorzeny. Otto gave off a low whistle, catching the Englishman's attention.

Churchill examined the excellent pose of the SS man, his borrowed sabre high in the air, pointing to the Englishman. The older man's face turned into an impressed grin. He hefted up his large, Scottish broadsword in a defensive posture.

"Good to see my adversary isn't above blades," Churchill spoke appreciatively to the slowly approaching giant. "Though I should have guess by the scar... Quite the exquisite scar I must say."

Skorzeny could only smile as he paid the compliment back with a full blown charge at the commando.

 **...**

* * *

 **…**

Hanala could not believe she was caught up in this.

The tension was thick as two enemies glared at each other down the barrels of their guns. The English SAS man stood there, his pistol at Hoch, his pose threatening. The Waffen SS officer's pistol was aimed right back at his adversary, Hoch's posture clearly defending Hanala from the frighteningly built and disfigured human, whose eyes were wild and filled with a blood rage.

He was taller than Hoch, even taller than Heinrich Fuhrmann, his face was covered with dense facial hair that hid his frighteningly mangled face. Hanala was shocked that he would want to continue making war with such wounds, but Joachim remained calm, cool and collected.

"Stand down, Englishman. You've stumbled into a situation that does not concern you," Joachim spoke, his voice neutral as held the weapon in his hand directly into the face of the other human "Drop your weapon or you don't get out of this alive."

The Englishman stared at him for a good long while before he emitted a low rumbling laugh at the ultimatum.

"The way I see it, I drop my weapon and surrender and you'll shoot me regardless," the man dangerously growled right back to the two of them.

Hanala had to hand it to the Englishman, in the few long moments that he had encountered Hoch, and he knew him well. The pistol in Joachim's hand pushed forward, it was Joachim's reply to the statement.

The commando laughed humourlessly at the lack of response from the Waffen SS officer.

"No reply..." the man growled, taking a step forward, his pistol inching closer to the German. "Now what in the hell is that... thing there. I killed three of them so you're going to tell me what in the _FUCK_ they are."

The SAS commando's free hand gestured to Hanala, whose eyes widened in shocked. This man had killed three marine to get this deep. Hanala wanted nothing more than to kill this bosh'tet. Hoch, always the calmer of the two of them, turned his head to give the shaking woman a sharp look, a silent call for her to calm down, that this wasn't the time to lose her self-control.

"It does not matter to you who she is, or the men you have killed," was Hoch's reply. "Stand down and I won't shoot you. Truth is I'm the only thing standing between you and being killed by her."

He nodded his head, gesturing to Hanala who was glowering furiously at the man. She did not care that he was putting her on the spot. She wanted this bastard's blood.

She however did not get such a chance.

The SAS man's chest exploded outwards, splattering Joachim and Hanala with English blood. The Commando glanced to his smoking, torn open wounds, his mouth gaping as he looked up to Joachim and fell to his knees.

Joachim tore his gaze from the dying soldier and to the source of the fire. There stood Admiral Halid'Zorah, his sidearm smoking as his pistol remained pointing at the dying man. His body language was that of dispassionate disinterest. As though what he had done was something he had done more than even Joachim.

He stepped closer to the barely breathing commando, who was now on his back. He stared up to Halid, who put his pistol away, his eyes were wide and accusing, filled with wonder and shock that he had been killed by an alien.

 _"Wh-who are you..."_ the dying man asked carefully, his voice weary.

Zorah's response came in silence.

Shepard spat over Zorah's faceplate, his bloody teeth sneered at the quarian like an animal in its last moment of defiance against its killer. Silently, the man forced himself onto his shoulder, his wounds bleeding hard. Zorah raised his pistol and shot the man clean through Shepard's head.

Zorah hand wiped against the blood splattered on his faceplate. Unable to remove it, Admiral Zorah unclasped the mask and dropped it down next to the man.

Joachim and Hanala shared a look. Whoever this Zorah was, they knew that he was not to be messed with.

 **...**

* * *

 **…**

Despite all of the show, it turned out that Churchill held no special talent for the sword.

Sure, he was a proficient enough but his blunt skills could not possibly match up against Skorzeny, who spent the better part of his youth with a sword in his hand and an enemy to stab in front of him. Every lash out was countered quickly by Skorzeny. Every attempt to shield against Skorzeny was broken resulting in more cuts and hits for the man touted as the most dangerous man the English had.

The man looked out of breath, burnt out by the firefight, by chasing and firing a bow and overexerting himself as he desperately tried to break the Austrian at his own sport. By contrast, Otto had conserved what energy he had left, using small power attacks on the Englishman to wean away what energy he had left.

It didn't help Churchill much that Skorzeny went out of his way to taunt the Englishman into making a mistake. His sloppy footing made quite the amusement for the cool under pressure Waffen-SS swordsman.

"It's one thing to use that sword on a dumb grunt, it's quite a another thing to use it on someone whose been duelling for decades, yes?" Skorzeny growled at the scrawny Anglo.

The taunt worked. Churchill went in for what he figured was a killing blow, but Skorzeny was too quick. He moved out of the way, forcing Churchill to smash his blade against the hard wall. He swung around and cut the Major along his shoulder.

" _Yield_!" the SS man roared as he reaffirmed his stance against the staggering and wounded commando.

Churchill, sweating profusely, swung again, his sword looking much too heavy for him. Skorzeny easily deflected the blow and at long last, decided he was done playing nice with the man who had defied his words, shot at him, fired arrows at him and chased him with a sword.

Skorzeny, using all of his stored energy, dropped his defences and smashed through Churchill's, his sword pushing past the sword and slashed through Churchill's side, dropping the man to the ground.

Hissing, Churchill batted the sabre away from him with his own sword. Skorzeny sneered and kicked the sword from out of Churchill's hand, the sabre once again pointing to his adversary's throat.

"You've been hit, you have no ground, no killing strike, and my God you don't even have a weapon!" Skorzeny listed off, his voice growing wild. "You've lost Herr Churchill. _Yield_!"

The man, lying in his own pool of blood didn't reply, he simply laid there, his hand holding his side. It was a flesh would, but it was a serious one. Growling at the refusal of Churchill's surrender, Skorzeny threw his own sabre in the direction of the two SS riflemen who approached to secure the situation. Skorzeny reached down and with one strong yank, grabbed the Englishman by the scruff of his bloodied jacket and pulled the commando to stare at Skorzeny eye to eye.

" _Goddamn you, you stubborn bastard_... _**YIELD, GODDAMN YOU**_!" he screamed right in Churchill's face, spit trickling into Churchill's defiant expression. "Enough men have died because you had to keep at it!"

Churchill's blank expression suddenly turned into a smile, it was only a moment later, Skorzeny's body suddenly spasm in agony. His side was bleeding, much as Churchill's was. In the Englishman's hand was Skorzeny's SS dagger, glistening with its master's blood.

Skorzeny responded with a simple punch to Churchill's head, dropping the man to the floor. Breathing heavy, Skorzeny wheezed as he clutched his latest wound.

"You used my knife on me…" Skorzeny managed to chuckle. "I don't know if I should be impressed or have my men _shoot_ you."

He gestured to the two riflemen who were approaching slowly, Karabiner rifles pointing directly at Churchill, who glanced at the two men knowing full well that he was defeated. Skorzeny reached over Churchill and grabbed a rifle from one of the trooper's hands and pointed it idly into Churchill's face.

"Drop it?" he asked as politely as he could speak to the defiant in defeat Englishman.

Churchill sighed and dropped the knife from out of his hands and stood up, both hands half-heartedly stretched out in a sign of surrender.

"Right then, suppose it's time to call it quits…" Jack whispered, his voice pained, still defiant, but filled with a lot of agony.

Skorzeny curled his lips, baring his teeth at the tricky Englishman.

"I should _kill_ you right now." Skorzeny growled as he pushed the Karabiner barrel into Churchill's neck. "But... I suppose since you've called it quits..."

Without warning, the stock of Skorzeny's borrowed rifle smashed into the English commando, knocking him down and out cold.

Nodding his head to the black uniformed SS guard, Skorzeny handed the rifle back to young guard, collected Hoch's bloodied sabre and hobbled away.

He needed a doctor and really strong drink.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: Extensive revision work to some dialog, added a scene meant for the previous chapter. Zorah's original reaction to killing Shepard was one of shock. I altered it to reflect who he is in the next stories. Finally I dumped the stupid vendetta subplot.**

 **One more chapter and then I'm moving to Intervention. Thanks for reading!**


	17. An Ominous New Pact

**Chapter Seventeen: An Ominous New Pact**

 **...**

 _Breaking news out of Vienna this morning as a glorious monument dedicated to the rich culture of the Austrian people was briefly under siege by members of the English commando squads in cooperation with the Bolshevik rebels. All of these traitors have been apprehended and are now awaiting trial. One of the rebels, a woman who has been placed into protective custody until her trial confessed that the intention of the raid was to burn down the Museum of Natural History, in the name of the Jewish-Bolshevik menace and their Jewish plutocratic capitalist useful idiots..._

 _Several high ranking officials within the party have flown to Vienna to assess the damage, reassure their Austrian brethren and to mourn for those lost to this senseless provocation. Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler shall be accompanied by Reinhard Heydrich, who made the people of Vienna this promise._

 _"We shall bring these terrorists to justice at long last. Soon Vienna will sleep easy that this small minority who hate our nation, our God, and the roles we are trying to forge for our children's future will be tried in a fair and unbiased court of law and their fates decided by the Austrian people. It does not bring comfort to the families of the soldiers so pointlessly lost, but we can only hope it will bring a small measure of comfort that their sacrifice will save many lives in the future."_

 _Meanwhile, the man who led the defense of the museum, the saviour of Vienna, Untersturmführer Otto Skorzeny has been summoned by the Fuhrer himself to offer his praise to Vienna favourite son. He offered no comment to the reporters._

"Saviour of Vienna, quite the title for a hometown hero…"

Otto Skorzeny turned away from the words offered to him by Hoch, who sat idly in the corner. Rolling his eyes, Skorzeny He continued writing his report behind Langer's desk, occasionally sipping a strong drink.

With the raid over and Skorzeny already being hailed the hero of the Austrian people, Langer had taken off that morning. He needed to go see to his family. Understandable, he hadn't been in this sort of conflict in two decades. It probably bothered him to no end. He was primarily behind the lines from 1940 to 1942, although Hoch could imagine he could if he wanted to. That would not be the case for much longer if Gerd von Rundstedt's predictions that this war started to turn against them.

Glancing away from Skorzeny, he turned to the other man in the room. His arms bound, his mouth not gagged, yet he refused to speech.

The commando known as Jack Churchill sat there as though expecting his death. In front of him was a plate of dinner, ham, greens potatoes, and a generous glass of Scotch. Odd that Skorzeny would feed this man after he was responsible for the death of upwards to fifty paratroopers and SS guardsmen.

"What are doing with him? Is this his last meal?" he asked Skorzeny, his voice growing amused at the thought. Churchill stiffened at the words. Turning from his paper work, Skorzeny glanced to the silent old soldier. Staring hard, the scar faced SS man shook his head curtly.

"I'm taking Churchill to a POW facility," he spoke as though he would regret his decision. "No matter how much this bastard may deserve it, I can't kill him, he reminds me too much of me."

Skorzeny went back to his paperwork, leaving Hoch staring blankly at what he had just heard. He turned back to Churchill and found that he was pushing himself forward to grab his drink. Churchill raised his glass of scotch to Skorzeny, who paid the Englishman no attention.

"Cheers."

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

After seeing the _'Saviour of Vienna'_ and his prisoner off, Joachim found himself back to the lower levels of the museum where the quarians too had their own mess to clean up, three new dead quarians to add to the bodies that had to be repatriated.

Admiral Zorah and Hanala were standing there over the bodies, both of them staring at the marines solemnly. It became clear to Joachim how little the quarians could suffer casualties. In Russia he was lucky if only three of his men were killed by the Russians. Still, it must have been a shock to them that two fully armoured quarians could fall to the Englishman who died at Zorah's hand.

Sighing, Joachim stood next to Hanala who glanced briefly at him, her face in a frown as she turned back to the bodies before her.

"How could he have done this?" she whispered more to herself than the Admiral and the human. Hoch did not have an answer to the question.

"They didn't have their shields activated, stupid of them," Zorah spoke to them as he covered the body up with the plastic sheet. Hanala bowed her head; she seemed so upset with this senseless death.

Shields were deactivated… _of course_...

"Skorzeny." Hoch growled to them. The two quarians looked up to the human, who held his eyes on the bodies in front of him.

"They must have been impressed by Skorzeny, and then he challenged their soldiering ability by calming they relied too much on their technology." Hoch reminded the two quarians, who seem to come to a revelation.

Hanala nodded, Zorah seemed dissatisfied with the answer. It wasn't a suit malfunction. It was a case of bad influence and even worse luck. These three boys were dead because of Skorzeny. It was as simple as that.

"It is going to be difficult explaining why these men died to a family who was kept in the dark about this expedition," Halid'Zorah rumbled lowly. He gestured over to his shoulder, adding. "What about him?"

Hanala and Joachim glanced at the one known as Shepard, still lying there in a pool of his own blood, still very much dead at the hands of Admiral Zorah. Joachim took off his cap and turned back to Hanala, who was glaring at the body as though it could be still held responsible for the lives he had taken.

"You grab his arms. I'll grab his legs." Hoch decided on the spot.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

It was late before the clean-up was mostly completed, with an exception to the crater in the side of the museum, the hundreds of bullet holes and the doors damaged by Churchill's driving a truck with a Gestapo agent attached to the hood of a truck. A nice personal touch Hoch had to admit. It took a certain sort of scumbag to be a part of a secret police.

Both of them were back in their room. Both tired, both covered in Shepard's blood. With no time to change today, it felt good to finally take off his boots, or in Hanala's case, strip off his battle fatigues he wore while crossing Russia for six straight months. His thoughts went back to Hanala. She did make him a promise. Perhaps she would be up for it.

Hanala stood with her back turned to Joachim, not paying attention... or not caring that she stood there naked before him.

Deciding that now was better than never, Joachim stepped forward, his hands wrapping around Hanala's soft, yet tense flesh. She gasped slightly, but quickly relaxed into him.

She turned right around, still standing no more than centimetres from him. Looking at him, she worked his own clothing off his body, piece by piece, his uniform fell, leaving himself just as naked as she. She seemed to be biting her lip, taking him in just as closely as he had been to her.

Oh yes... Hanala was not your typical woman. Looking at sex as though it was a chore to please her man... No... She seemed very up for this. They laughed slightly. This was absurd, the two of them about to do this... Still, inspecting the tight snatch between her legs... Joachim figured he would be alright with doing her...

Their lips met with much more force than what was intended. Keeping his machine hand slung low around her waist, Joachim's human hand dug into breast, earning a sudden gasp and moan into his mouth. Hanala flickered out of shock, her mouth opening for a fraction of a second before her sharp teeth suddenly bit into Joachim's lower lip.

Hanala's mouth pulled back before he had a chance to cry out. Her teeth were coated in spit and human blood. Her eyes were wide as though she had completely fucked this encounter up. Joachim lowered his head, hissing as he clutched his latest wound.

First she stabbed him then she blew off his arm, now she was biting him? He would be lucky to survive a prolonged relationship with her at this rate.

"You bit me," he pointed out the obvious.

At first Hanala had the good sense to at least look apologetic for taking a good chunk our lip. Then her regret rolled away and evolved into a look of devious lust. She back away from the human until her legs found the bed, she crawled onto it, her back arched as she stared at him, her legs opening and closing, tempting, teasing him…

"Yes, I bit you; I've stabbed you and blown you up as well... so tell me, Hoch? What are you going to do about it?" She whispered a low challenge to him, her chin pushed out, her words teasing and lowly with aroused arrogance.

Narrowing his eyes, his mouth forming into a smirk as he ignored the blood trickling down his chin, Joachim stepped forward. She was offering him a challenge? Well now, Joachim was going to make her regret her words.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

Sex was quite possibly the smartest, stupidest thing they had ever done.

As it turned out, the two of them had pretty bad allergic reactions to one another. But this discomfort was something Hanala, and judging from the stunned stupid state, Hoch were both willing to power through.

Both of them were in such a post-sex drunken state that neither of them would pay any attention to just how badly quarian and human sweat reacted to each other's sweat. It left terrible marks, like hives that could only be soothed when the two of them spent two hours in a bathtub constantly brimming to the top with hot water with any luck. They would adapt soon enough. At least he would. Between his much more resilient reaction to the allergenic reaction and his immune system that would not get quite as ill once dextro sweat was absorbed into his skin. In the future, she would quietly order some anti-inflammatory for herself and for Joachim.

For now, she was quite intent on keeping the flare ups concealed as she idly stared at Joachim, who seemed to be fidgeting uncomfortably under his uniform as he ate, smoke and drank. His eyes would occasionally flicker up to meet hers. His thoughts were filled with the same ones she was having: him deep inside of her, her dominating him.

Hanala shot him as sly grin as she felt herself pulse between her legs. Whether out of allergenic reaction or lust, she wasn't sure. It wasn't until two words were spoken that finally broke her stare at Joachim.

"Hello granddaughter."

Hanala shot out of her seat like a rocket. There standing there in the doorway of the cafeteria was Jalina'Calis; Admiral to Joachim, Grandmother to Hanala. Behind her elder was Admiral Utala'Falan, her eyes staring between Joachim, Hanala and finally to Admiral Calis, who stepped out of Falan's way.

"Obersturmbannführer Hoch, I was hoping to speak to you," Falan spoke up, catching the focus of the itchy human. "Come and take a walk with me."

Resigned, Hoch nodded and stood up, glancing briefly to Hanala, offering a salute to Grandmother and joined Utala'Falan. Together the two of them left, leaving the family members to themselves. The two of them stared at each other, Grandmother stared solid while Hanala felt like she was a schoolgirl in trouble

"Grandmother?" Hanala finally found her voice. Grandmother broke her stare and stepped forward, her walk looking so painful to the grandchild.

"I was hoping to see you," she rasped at long last. "I cannot stay for long."

She stopped in front of Hanala; her eyes glanced over her granddaughter from head to toe. Slowly, her hand reached up to touch Hanala's shoulder.

"You have given yourself freely to him, I see..." she observed.

Hanala's head shot right up at nearly the speed of a mass relay. How did she know? She was wearing makeup to cover the blotchy skin, she took a long bath and rinsed herself down with antiseptic to cover up the smell of sex the two of them had on each other. Grandmother was just talking, yes, that was it… just trying to get her to spill the secrets.

"What? No!" Hanala's voice instantly betrayed her attempt to casually shrug off the observation. "Of course not, that's..."

Her Grandmother merely smirked at her. Hanala knew she knew. There was no point disrespecting her with further lies and denials.

"Okay, yes... yes, I have." She spoke, her hands wringing as she awaited further judgement from her elder.

The only judgement that came from her grandmother was a soft chuckle.

"You should have known since you were a small child that you just cannot fool me..." Grandmother reminded her. "I suppose this was probably almost certain inevitability between two people thrown into so much, so quickly."

Happy that at least one member of her family seemed okay with her decision, Hanala stepped forward, her hands wrapping around her elder in order to hug her carefully, as though Jalina'Calis was made of delicate glass.

"Is there… Is there something you need?" she finally got out as she released her hold on her Grandmother.

"No and yes, there is much I need from you," was Grandmother's cryptic response. "For now... I just wanted to see my granddaughter. I have... so much to tell you. Walk with me?"

Hanala smiled and nodded. Together, the two of them stepped slowly out of the cafeteria and into the museum. There was no direction Grandmother seemed interested in going, so at an idle pace, Hanala escorted her in the direction that Joachim and Admiral Falan had headed off too. It was silent for a good long while before Grandmother found her voice.

"Despite what you had thought since you were a child, I was not blind to the way you were unfairly treated," she broke the silence.

Hanala looked up to her Grandmother, whose head was bowed as though deep in her own mind. What was this about? As far as she knew, Grandmother was a saint to her.

"I knew of the bullying, the bias held against you. How your brother was preferred by other over you," She continued her voice low with a regret Hanala never heard before. "I listened to the words they used, called you selfish, called you so many names, some even felt you had no right to be born _alive_ following the birth restrictions."

Hanala remained quiet. She would not devote her time to thinking about the years of torment inflicted by ignorant children and judgmental adults. Finally Grandmother looked up to her, her dull eyes wide behind her face plate.

"I did nothing, I told your parents not to complain, to let you take such abuse," she admitted, growing strained at the words she spoke. "They wanted you to conform, to be just like Rael at first. Being exactly like Rael… has its advantages, this you and I know."

The granddaughter nodded her head. Rael's way was an easier path. Rael could sacrifice in a way that made Hanala sick to her stomach.

"I rallied against such thoughts of conformity," she admitted. "I managed to convince both your parents to let you grow on your own. Allowing you to see the freedoms quarians could have and the unfortunate downside to the path our people have had to take in the shadow of the geth."

Hanala blinked as the words sunk in. So all of the harassment she took as a child. The nicknames, the disapproval at her apparent freedoms to do anything she wanted...

"I did so because I wanted you to be strong in a way your brother could and will never be," she pressed on, her words stinging as they spoke of Rael. "I wanted to give you a lesson that quariankind has forgotten: the strength in individuality. For half a century we have been forcing the concept of unity on our people. With good reason too, we cannot scatter in the wind. But survival should not always be our one desire in this life. I wanted you to take the traits that have been forgotten by most of our people and use them when the time was right."

And that time was her accident over Earth, crashing her ship into an icy hell, only to be rescued by Hoch.

"Had it been another quarian that crashed, you would have died rather than be captured by the humans. You did the opposite the once the fighting cleared down. You could have easily broken out of these people's custody at any point and hid until we found you," she listed off. "You instead built a foundation of trust between humans and quarians. In turn, Hoch showed eventual compassion… a rare trait in this galaxy."

Hanala could only snort.

"Compassion through fear…" Hanala mumbled, feeling foolish. "I threatened him that you would have glassed the whole planet."

The two women stared at each other before descending into a fit of laughter.

"Maybe so," Grandmother finally spoke again. "But the initial fear broke into trust, eventually you two came to depend on one another. Would a man who feared you and your threats fight, bleed and nearly die for you as you led him across a desert and into that dreadnought? Would he still love you even after you lied to him and was the cause to his horrific amputation?"

Hanala froze her mouth agape at the suggestion. Hoch… Feeling in such a way? Grandmother clearly did not know Hoch that well. She still doubted he was capable of feeling that just yet.

"It's not love," Hanala tried not to snap. All her denial did was earn a tilt of her grandmother's helmet and her eyes squinting.

"I know love. It's a feeling that transcends almost all species." Grandmother broke through her doubts, a small smile on her face. "That man is much too defensive to ever admit it so freely, but I can see it, and not just in him."

Hanala fought the urge to blush. Grandmother merely reached over and patted her granddaughter's arm.

"Your Mother and Father will be arriving this evening. They will soon dissuade you from this path you have taken with Joachim'Hoch; perhaps not your father, but your mother for certain," Grandmother continued, her voice growing faint. "You must follow your heart and be strong should you choose him. They will be only the first in a long line of people who will look down on this... human and quarian alike."

Footsteps interrupted the two of them. It was Hoch and Admiral Falan, speaking lowly to each other. Grandmother gave the two a slight smile barely visible behind her mask before she turned back to face her grandchild. Slowly her fragile hands grazed against Hanala's cheek.

"I wish I could say more," she spoke again, her voice filled to the brim with a strange regret. "I wish that I could have been a better Grandmother to you. I should have protected you like you deserved. I'm sorry."

It was in that moment Hanala finally understood why her confession was happening.

She was searching for absolution.

Grandmother was dying… or perhaps more accurately planning to end her life.

Hanala nearly lost control, her lip quivered as she fought back the mist in her eyes. Grandmother took notice as the revelation became clear to her. Shushing her nearly crying grandchild, Jalina dried Hanala's eyes, only furthering to serve as a breaking point for the young woman.

"No it's... thank you..." Hanala finally managed to get out, her voice choked full of tears. "I... I always felt out of place, like a child with a captain's rank. After the crash we went through... I'm a lot stronger than I thought I could ever be. I think it's all owed to you."

Grandmother tapped her helmet against Hanala's forehead. Her hands clutching her sides, they both turned their heads and found the Admiral and the Lieutenant Colonel came closer and closer to the two family members. Wishing that she did not do it, Hanala pulled back, her head bowed in an unnecessary shame. Grandmother turned briefly to Falan and nodded. She pulled back and held Hanala's hand briefly.

"I love you, child." She finally spoke. "I will see again, though hopefully not too soon."

With that said, Grandmother turned away and was lead out by Admiral Falan, leaving Hanala staring blankly after her. She wanted to do something, anything to stop her, to buy her elder more time for her own selfish reasons... But it was wrong. Everyone followed their own paths in their lives. Grandmothers choose hers. Hanala would respect it. No matter how much it had hurt, no matter much of a betrayal it felt.

A hand touched against the base of her spine. It was Hoch, his mouth twisted into a look of empathy for her. He did not need words to know what was going on. Hanala turned around and carefully buried her face into Joachim's chest. She could feel his arms - machine and human - wrap around her carefully. She did not have any words to say. Joachim did not have any words to comfort her. She did not need them.

Instead, Hanala simply cried.

 **...**

* * *

...

Hanala needed some time to herself. He could not blame for feeling that way. Within days of the loss of Galas'Yoad, she found herself having to grieve for a woman who, by all rights, deserved to be grieved for. Hanala's grandmother loved her.

By contrast after seeing Hanala so broken up for this development, Joachim had decided once and for all that his mother probably lost all concept of what love meant prior to his birth. The sort of love he had seen between the two of them just did not exist when it came to the family he had. Again, even with an impending death in Hanala's family, and yet again Joachim found he was foolishly envious.

In order to combat those feelings, Joachim decided to do one of the tasks the quarian Admiral Falan needed of him. As a part of his assignment, Halid'Zorah needed to see Berlin for himself. To do so, Joachim provided Halid with a spare uniform he had held onto during his time in the Allgemeine-SS. The black uniform did wonders for the man. It blended in the alien features.

Well... almost.

"Admiral," he spoke as he stood up straighter as the Admiral approached him at a casual pace. "You nearly fit in. You forgot the glasses though."

Zorah huffed slightly and pulled out the sunglasses he was provided by Hoch. They were much darker that the face plate he wore, it worked to hide those bright pupils of his,

Thank you for doing this, Herr Hoch" Zorah spoke as he fixed his cap. "This won't be forgotten."

"Herr Admiral... Are you ready to go? We'll have to take the back way out of here."

The two men turned and found Standing there with a slight limp in his stance was Heinrich Fuhrmann, his face somewhat nervous as he addressed the admirals. Hoch smiled slightly. He knew the kid was tough.

"Fuhrmann, I see you're up and about," he greeted the soldier kindly. "You did not bother to visit?"

Fuhrmann nodded, he still looked somewhat in pain. Being shot twice was bound to keep him like this for some time. Still, better this state than dead.

"Yes, Herr Obersturmbannführer... Sorry for not, you know, checking in," he spoke again with a bit more enthusiasm. "I'm here to help the...um, quarian Admiral."

Heinrich gestured to Zorah as he continued to work over the uniform. Joachim nodded, his hand clamping on the young man's shoulder. Fuhrmann flinched as he stared at the machine arm. Hoch pulled his arm back from the surprised Heer soldier. Its very presence still felt like a source of great shame to him.

"It appears that we were both wounded significantly... for what it is worth, I am sorry putting you in that position to be harmed…" Joachim admitted, trailing off briefly before changing the subject by adding. "Anyways, just take him to where he needs to go and get him back here. We're all taking a risk by having him roaming the Fatherland."

Fuhrmann nodded his head and offered a salute, which Hoch returned.

"I understand Herr Hoch, I'll bring him back an-"

Hoch held his hand up.

"Once you take him to where he needs to go, you want to go see your family?" Hoch guessed properly, earning a nod from the Unteroffizier. "I'll sign whatever leave you would like to have. Not too long though..."

He paused and slowly smiled as an awful idea came to mind.

"You know you should bring along Helena Langer," he suggested, withholding his desire to smirk. "..I think she would like the trip."

As Fuhrmann nodded and agreed with the idea, Hoch smirked. That should give Gerald something to take his mind off Hanala and him for a while.

Smiling without realizing the hell Hoch was about to put him through, Fuhrmann and the quarian dressed as an SS officer left his sight, travelling in the opposite direction as he would. Happy that at least Fuhrmann was feeling better, Joachim went the opposite direction. He would go and see to Hanala. She needed the company, the support. He would be there just as she was for him.

At least that had been the plan before a voice suddenly spoke out to him.

 _"Obersturmbannführer Hoch?"_

The voice froze his very soul. He had never met the man before, but Langer had and had spoken in great detail about the man's presence felt like the monster from out of Bram Stoker's Dracula story. His voice unnaturally monotone, like he was too busy analyzing every detail about a person's personality that he was too busy to develop one of his own.

It was Heydrich's chief technocrat himself. Hoch cleared his throat and turned to face the expressionless human calculator.

"Eichmann," he greeted stiffly. "I trust you are well?"

Sturmbannführer Adolf Eichmann inclined his head most generously. His dark eyes burned into Hoch's.

"I am," Eichmann returned quite simply. "I was just coming to tell you that Reichsführer Himmler and General Heydrich are here. They're outside inspecting the damage... would you care to meet your leaders?"

Smirking at the illusion of choice being offered by Heydrich's organizer, Joachim nodded and followed the man out to greet the Reichsführer and the Butcher of Prague.

 **...**

* * *

 **..**.

The tension was palpable.

It was near midnight when the doors to the administrative office of the museum opened. Joining the room with the likes of Himmler, Heydrich and Eichmann, Langer and Hoch was the quarian delegation, each of them in their suits.

One of which was Admiral Alaan'Jarva vas Rayya, Hanala's father. Said father of the young woman he was sleeping with did his best to avert his eyes from Joachim. Hoch was not certain if that was a good or bad thing.

The SS men and the quarians stared at each other for a long moment. Himmler looked absolutely fascinated by them, as though his proclamation of the quarian people being Aryan brothers had come true. Heydrich was the realist, he stood there, inspecting them as though they were not potential allies, but as enemies.

"I am Admiral Alaan'Jarva vas Rayya. This is Admiral Habva'Vaerhit." Alaan spoke, breaking the silence at long last. "We are two voices out of the five member Admiralty board that leads our people. I will apologize on behalf on the other members. Our fleet is large and must be micromanaged carefully."

Alaan bowed his head as a sign of respect. The two humans they addressed were both clearly wearing the translators Hoch had provided them. They could understand the friendly body language of Admiral Jarva. Himmler glanced to the staring Heydrich, who barely concealed his expression of curiosity and mild revulsion. Himmler stepped forward.

"I am Heinrich Himmler, this is Reinhard Heydrich. On behalf of the Führer and my countrymen, we welcome you to the embrace of our Reich," the Reichsführer greeted, returning the bow with one of his own, his face lighting up to a smile. "We are only too happy to finally meet you and your people after so many weeks of reports and preparation."

Himmler, still smiling at the quarians, turned his attention to Langer and Hoch, both of whom stood to the side with the ever quiet Eichmann.

"Langer, why don't you stay with us?" Himmler invited the older man. He turned to Hoch and added. "Herr Hoch, thank you for your services. We shall see to it that you are returned to your unit. I am certain that you will be only too happy to return to the field."

Eichmann and Heydrich both smirked as they watched the colour in Hoch's face vanish quickly at the expression. He turned to Langer who also was shocked by the suggestion clearly whispered into Himmler's ear by Heydrich and Eichmann.

Hoch exhaled... well shit... So much for a good job... it was back off to Russia with him.

The door opened. Hoch turned and found Hanala was standing in the doorway. No longer was she up. Her composure was back and she was dressed in her black and purple body suit. Her eyes glanced from her father to the ashen faced Hoch.

"Captain Jarva." Langer suddenly greeted, surprising all of the occupants of the room and using a rank that he knew she did not have anymore. "Did you hear the good news? Your liaison is heading back to Russia. I am certain Reichsführer Himmler and General Heydrich would like your opinion on the matter."

Hanala froze. In her short time on earth, she knew exactly what being sent back to the front lines in Russia meant. Looking close to losing her temper, she swallowed her rage and turned to the stocky Himmler.

"With all due respect Herr Reichsführer, Joachim Hoch was named my liaison, under my command." Hanala spoke up as she closed the door behind her. "I believe it would be wise if he remained as my assistant and educator to the ways of the Reich and the Party. I will need his assistance in adjusting."

Heydrich's smirk turned into a frown, he stepped past Himmler and the quarians and gestured to the silent Eichmann.

"I am certain my friend Adolf Eichmann could do a much better job serving your interests... Fraulein?"

Alaan'Jarva moved forward, catching Himmler's attention.

"Herr Himmler. This is my daughter, Hanala'Jarva." Alaan spoke as he glanced to the silent Hoch and joined Hanala's side, his arm wrapping protectively around the woman. "As a personal request, I would feel most comfortable if Joachim'Hoch continued his services to your Reich as an aid to her. I am certain Herr Eichmann would serve well as a functionary to my daughter's further insights, but if the Captain was more comfortable with Hoch, then please allow us this."

Langer cleared his throat.

"Besides..." Langer added in as the Admiral fell silent. "What is your policy on letting disabled soldiers fight on the front line?"

Before Hoch could react, Langer grabbed his machine arm and rolled up the sleeve and pulled the leather glove off, revealing the three digit piece of machinery now serving as his limb. Eichmann, for the first time in quite possibly his entire life, stared at it with fascination. Himmler too stared at it, shocked and disgusted.

"British grenade, Herr Reichsführer," Hoch quickly lied.

Next Joachim, Admiral Jarva stepped forward.

"For security reasons we would have to remove it, rendering him unable to perform his duties effectively. His career on the front line would be finished," he reminded them. "Let him stay. We will find another role for Herr Eichmann to fill."

Readjusting his spectacles and glancing to Heydrich, who appeared to be perturbed by the loss of Eichmann's position inside the quarian circle, but pacified enough by Jarva's promise. Himmler turned back, his face turning into fatherly concern for Joachim.

"My God, Hoch..."he whispered lowly. "Very well then... as a gesture of friendship and to you Hoch, for your sacrifice, I shall keep you on as functionary to Captain Jarva… Thank you again for your services."

With those words spoken, it was clear that it was time for Hoch to leave. Gesturing to Hanala to follow him and shooting both Alaan'Jarva and Langer a look of gratitude for their defense the two of them left.

"That was close... Thank you, Hanala…" He whispered as he led Hanala out of the room and back into the hallway. "Eichmann will be inching his way into this group undoubtedly. Skorzeny told me as much a while back. He's not a man you want in your corner. You need to watch out for him and Heydrich in the near future."

Though Hanala nodded, it was clear to Hoch that she did not understand the power struggles within the SS. He would have to teach her that the SS upper echelon was Darwinian by design. She did not know just how close he was to being shipped back to Russia and never seeing her again. Hanala stopped walking, with the hall empty, she turned and took both of his hands.

"So... where to first?" Hanala spoke again, "We can travel anywhere that is safe. I do not know where to start... Do you?"

Joachim thought about it for a moment. Here he had a babysitting job and it looked as though it would be a long term one. Where would he like to go? Where would he take Hanala? Somewhere quiet in Denmark? Italy? Perhaps sate her thirst of spilling blood by taking her back to Poland or France?

No... Not yet anyways.

"With your permission, Kiel," he spoke finally to the woman's, whose curiosity softened into understanding. "I should go home... bury my mother, if at all possible."

Hanala nodded. Quietly, the two of them headed back to their room.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

A knock on the door woke him from his doctor prescribed afternoon rest. He tried his best to ignore it but again it happened, then again and again.

Grumbling to himself about heart attacks and people in need of a good lesson in manners, Generalfeldmarschall Gerd von Rundstedt opened his eyes and sat up. His eyes narrowed as they fell to the door. Who in the _hell_ was calling at... Rundstedt checked his watch. It was four in the evening.

Sighing as he knew he had no excuse, Von Rundstedt pulled on his boots and marched to the door.

"Who the hell is it now…" he grumbled as he opened up and found himself not happy with what he saw.

Standing there was a formally dress Heer NCO. He was tall, slightly hunched and probably wounded. Still he came to attention at the sight of the Generalfeldmarschall. Respecting the young man's sacrifice, Von Rundstedt straightened up and returned the salute and in so doing, he took a good long look at the face.

He was a boy giant. He had seen this boy before. In Vienna, his little granddaughter hit him…

He was... He was that clever, arrogant, angst addled SS officer's lackey, the one named Hoch; the very same Hoch who was in control of the aliens in Austria.

" _You,_ " he growled lowly as though the Heer soldier personally betrayed him. "Is _he_ here?"

The soldier's eyes went wide as he shook his head.

"Umm, no...Uh, Herr Generalfeldmarschall Rundstedt," the NCO stupidly stuttered out like a retarded child. "I-I... I brought someone else who wanted to ahhh... wanted to meet you."

The NCO stepped out of the way. Standing there on the walkway to the staff car was an SS officer... but it wasn't an SS officer... for starters, he wasn't human. He was unnaturally pale; his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, his legs were wrong... as wrong as the alien that he encountered in Vienna...

Oh God... The secret the SS was keeping had decided to visit him.

"You're one of... _them_ ," he whispered, unable to believe that this being decided to come to his home. The alien nodded his head politely and stepped forward, his expression forming into a careful smile.

"I am Admiral Halid'Zorah. I apologize for the uniform, Herr Generalfeldmarschall and my abrupt visit," the alien spoke to him in a strangely accent, yet clear German, leaving the Junker in shocker. "I don't have long and you and I have much to discuss…"

Staring between the human and the alien that had addressed himself as an Admiral, Gerd von Rundstedt nodded speechless as he stepped out of the way, allowing the two of them to enter his home. He did not realize at the time that the conversation they would have would change his life, his fate and the fate of the Fatherland forever.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

The quietness of the Libyan Desert was broken up as a lone vehicle came to the stop over the valley. The doors opened and out came three Afrika Korps soldiers, brandishing submachine guns, all them heading in different directions to set up a perimeter. Next an officer came, Ordonnanzoffizier Leutnant Alfred-Ingemar Berndt. His small eyes like the soldiers before him scanned for unknown threats. Feeling the area was safe enough, Berndt turned back to the car and opened the backdoor and came to attention as the man staring at his reports turned his focus up to his subordinate.

"We're clear, Herr Generaloberst." Berndt announced, stepping out of the Desert Fox's way as he stood up from his seat, his expression unreadable as he stepped out onto the North African sand and dirt.

Generaloberst Erwin Rommel pushed past his orderly and pulled his cap over his head, his hands moving to straighten out his jacket. He had been summoned. Summoned for a meeting with the SS in his field of operation, for Christ's sake, he thought he had been pretty clear that the SS did not get to play their goddamned games in his theatre. He knew it was a mistake to have let one of them roam free in his desert.

They would come by plane apparently, which explained why he stood in a flatland such as these. Well, at least they would have a quick means to leave once he tore these arrogant peons a new asshole for treating him as though he was their whipping boy.

"Herr Generaloberst, with all due respect, we're in the middle of nowhere," Berndt spoke. "There is no strategic importance to this valley."

Naturally, Rommel kept everyone in the dark about this meeting. He did not want to be seen consorting with the fanatics as much as he possibly could.

"That's _why_ we're here." He grumbled as he leaned against his car to find himself a cigarette. "Go and tend to the sentries, I would like some time to myself, thank Berndt."

Brendt reluctantly nodded, exchanged salutes with his superior officer and followed the footsteps of the patrolling Afrika Korps sentries. His departure left Rommel alone with his thoughts.

To be honest, he was glad to have gotten away from the command quarters. He had been in talks with Italian civilian, political and military leaders about the exploitation of newly Libyan oil once the English siege was broken and it was safe to resume marching across the nation again. The Italians wanted the oil to themselves, naturally. Greedy, small minded bastards, the whole lot of them, Kesselring was among them; technically Rommel's superior, Kesselring had to keep Rommel from screaming at the idiots.

Of course, no mention that an alien survey team had found it. He had simply chalked it up as a location discovered by a poor North African local who was untimely blown up by those bastard New Zealanders. New Zealanders were decent enough scapegoat when it came to that lie. Their sectors were always fired the most artillery.

All that practice on their sheep, Rommel reckoned.

As he thought about the torture of dealing with oil reserves and Italians, a peculiar hum caught his attention, high in the sky above. He turned his head up. A small blip got closer and closer. At first Rommel was certain a Lancaster had decided to make him into a fine misty, but no. The blip turned into something much, much different. It looked like a boat... with rockets and small wings.

It came lower and lower until it landed a dozen meters from the Commandant of the Afrika Korps.

The cigarette in Rommel mouth fell to the desert sand.

The side of the flying vehicle opened and out stepped four of... _them_. The quarians, the race he was just made aware of. Three of them took up a defensive position around the craft, their rifles raised threateningly at the General.

 _ **"Herr Generaloberst!"**_

Rommel turned back and found that Berndt was running full out to him, his pistol drawn and the three sentries not far behind. Without any fear in them, they stood in front of him, their weapons aiming right back at the aliens. Rommel sighed at the reaction and stepped past his protesting orderly. The fourth quarian who was not armed stepped past her soldiers as well. The two of them continued walking towards each other, ignoring the protests of each races. It wasn't before long that the two of them were no more than a few feet from each other.

They froze their movement and stood there quietly. Rommel searched for the right words to say to this one.

"I know that you can understand me, my men will hold their fire," he spoke to the alien, not sure if his words would get through. "I was briefly in contact with one of your kind, who in turn temporarily provided me with a translation device, an earpiece to be exact."

The alien tilted her head, her hand slid into one of her exotic suits pocket and pulled out the familiar cylindrical device and offered it to him. Giving the alien a brief look, he took it and did as he did last time, placed it just inside his ear. The device hissed and crackled to life as it had before.

"Thank you," He first spoke. "I am Generaloberst Erwin Rommel, Commandant of the Afrika Korps."

The alien bowed her head to the Generaloberst.

"I have read the report on you submitted by former Captain Hanala'Jarva," the strange wobbly tone came into focus. "I am Captain Daer'Halios vas Kareon. It's an honour to meet someone so highly regarded."

Rommel nodded his head respectfully back to the quarian, The Captain turned back to the craft, her hand gesturing to it. Rommel turned back to his own men and gestured for them to lower their arms at the quarians. They did so reluctantly. In turn, the armed aliens also dropped their guard.

"General, I have brought along a few people who wanted to journey to this desert for a short while." The Captain spoke again, turning properly back to him. "They too have read the reports on you. Come."

Taking a nervous breath, Rommel swallowed his inclination towards fear and stepped past the quarian guard and placed himself within the Captain's reach. Clanging inside the ship caught his attention. Coming into view were two more quarians, women by the look of it. One was hunched slightly, the other holding her up.

They stopped at the edge and seemed to look as though they were struggling to get the hunched over one off. Glancing to the fidgeting Captain, Rommel pushed past her and stood in front of the two quarians, who stared on him.

Without words – even if he knew what to say, he did not know if he could say it – he instead extended his hand out to the hunched over woman.

The alien in clear distress looked up from him to his hand, breathing heavily. the woman took his hand with her strange alien one. She felt so... brittle. It was clear now that she wasn't wounded. She was old, much older than he or anyone else here. Taking that fact in consideration, Rommel gingerly aided the elder off the small gap between the ship and the surface of the desert.

He ignored the watchful stare of the woman next to elder as she too stepped off the side of the ship. With the old woman now safely on the ground, Rommel turned his attention to the second woman, whose hands were latched together as she held her eyes on him.

"I am Admiral Utala'Falan, this is Admiral Jalina'Calis," the younger woman introduced, her voice soft with an edge of authority planted into her tone. "Admiral Calis here is the reason we stand here on your planet..."

Rommel turned back to the elder, who was staring off at the rocky desert plains before her, her eyes behind the plate glass wide with a strange wonder. Like was standing in the Garden of Eden itself. Rommel's lips quirked and he turned back to the younger Admiral.

 _Admirals_ … He was speaking to an authority amongst these quarians, someone of military background. A common ground set between him and these two women. That was good to know for Rommel. If he was handed a politician, he was not sure what he would do. Probably say something and inadvertently start a war.

Ignoring his musings, he watched as the older woman stepped past the two of them at a slow hobble, her movement looked painful to the General.

He turned back to the Admiral named Falan, who did not know what to do. Silently, he gave the Admiral a nod before he followed the old woman named Calis, catching up to her quickly.

"May I?" he asked politely.

The older woman broke her empty stare and glanced to Rommel. His arm was now at his side being offered to the quarian. Calis nodded her head and reached out, taking the offering. Together the two off them walked, Rommel felt as though he was a Hitlerjugend, escorting old women across a busy street… something his own son would do.

Rommel and Calis passed by his men who parted respectfully in part for their superior officer and in part their natural curiosity about what this woman was. The woman remained wordless for a little longer. She seemed focus on breathing. Rommel slowed his pace down to a snail's pace. She needed her time.

"I'm dying…" the old quarian whispered, humoured at such a grim concept was evident to Rommel.

"Aren't we all?" Rommel jested, earning a soft wheezing laugh from the quarian.

"I ended my life twenty minutes ago…" Calis rasped. Rommel tilted his head.

The statement was enough to make Rommel's heart jump, even if he did not know this alien on a personal level.

"There is not much here for a hundred miles," Rommel informed the elder respectfully, deciding against allowing religious sensibilities to override her decision and her last moments. "The war wages to the north. There is nothing but empty land here."

Admiral Calis shook her head. She was obviously uninterested in such things.

"I did not come to this land to fight your enemies as my Granddaughter did, Generaloberst," Jalina reassured Rommel with an amusement in her tone. ""I… wanted to see this land for myself, before I left to stronger hands..."

Fraulein Hanala'Jarva was this Admiral's granddaughter? Rommel was happy to hear that she did not want to fight. He had heard the stories of Hoch's little squad defending Tripoli. He would not have been the least bit surprised if the woman had killed more Englishmen than Hoch during the action.

The two of them stood on the ridge overlooking the valley. Jalina started to push herself down, but was stopped and instead helped by Rommel. Together the two of them sat down on the edge, watching as the sun slowly set over the desert.

"I felt my death coming for some time. I decided to hasten it," she continued, her voice speaking matter of factually to him. "Some think such a feeling is stupid. I did until I felt it coming. I wanted to hold out until... until I stood on the land that will house my race until we are strong again."

The hopeful tone in her voice forced the ever rational Rommel not to mention how this thought was going to be plagued with many issues. This land was occupied by two warring, uncompromising enemies, colonized by another nation and home to a million or so North Africans who would not simply move because the quarians showed up.

All these issues, they were not for a dying woman to hear. She would have a replacement and other admirals who would deal with the logistics. Rommel would grant this elder her right to dream of a home for her displaced race.

Jalina's hands moved up to her mask and without warning, the mask hissed and came off. Rommel stared at the pace face, her eyes dulled unlike her granddaughters. He could see every line, every wrinkle, and every age spot. Smiling, the old woman turned away and took in a breath of air.

"Well you haven't chosen the best of times to make a home here on Earth," Rommel spoke up again "Our planet is engulfed by conflict."

Unperturbed the admission, Jalina slightly shrugged

"For ten years I fought the growing geth threat. I did what I could to stem the geth extermination policies. I have lost much... my parents, my siblings, my husband. I could not save more than 17 million out of billions beyond billions of fellow quarians." Jalina explained, not paying mind to the horrified expression on Rommel's face. "In the forty seven years of exile, I lost most of my children to the geth as well."

Rommel could not find words for such loss. He did not understand what the geth were, but he still wondered how could these geth commit such horrors on the quarian? How could any race do that? He could not begin to imagine losing everyone. Losing Manfred… losing Lucie…. terrible, absolutely appallingly _unthinkable_.

"I know war, General," Admiral Calis pressed on to the stunned Generaloberst. "For a long time that was all I could think of... but now the quarian people are battered and nearly broken. Just as the other races have been secretly wishing for since we first entered the galactic scene, we were much too clever for the other races. They saw a chance to break us and they took it."

 _Other races?_

Well, this got complicated…

"Regardless, we need a home, far away from the galaxy that shunned us," she concluded before Rommel could ask about these other races. "As for your war, it will end and peace will come back soon... I can feel it."

Rommel wished he had the same optimism as she.

"Here, this is where you build your future..." was his astute guess, gesturing to the desert before them. Calis nodded her head.

"With your people's permission, yes..." Admiral Calis rasped out once more. "I have been naïve about this. I have thought that your people would simply drop everything in order to shelter us, to help us. I see now that life is complicated here. In some cases, more so than our own situation, some feel it is best we simply leave this place."

Calis looked disgusted for thinking such a thought.

"We need to stay..." She spoke, stronger than before. "We need to be _friends_ , not masters. The chaos of your species could be tamed and mellowed by us; our arrogance that led to the creation of artificial life could be humbled by your people's act of compassion. Two races with interwoven destinies...:

She trailed off and laughed weakly at her own words.

"A thought… just another childish naïve dream of mine…" She spoke, her voice now rueful. "Silly perhaps... but worth fighting for; worth... what little life I have left in me."

She trailed off and turned from the human keeping his eye on her. His hand reached over and tentatively took hers. He could see it now, how much this place really meant to her, what it could mean for her people. It would be difficult to settle in, difficult to be accepted and not be feared initially. But it could get better; it could mean a second chance to a race apparently traveling the stars for nearly fifty years.

Rommel reached into his jacket to find a cigarette. He paused and retracted his hand. She did not need to choke on cigarette smoke now.

"Do you know what this desert means to me?" he breathed, searching for the right words to convey.

The old Admiral fell out of her musings and turned back to face Rommel, who was still studying her carefully. Jalina'Calis offered no guess to his remark. Rommel turned away and stared ahead to the barren land that stood before him.

"It means absolutely nothing to me, Admiral. It never had." He admitted m his voice distasteful at the thought. "It is simply a place to conduct war for as long as possible against an enemy I hold no personal qualms against. There is little strategic purpose for controlling this land. This war happening here is a war waged solely because it can be waged. Not because it has to be. All the blood spilled on both sides and for what... to continue the war that will kill even more people of this earth."

He turned back to the elderly quarian who stared at him expectantly.

"But to you it's different…" he pressed on, silently tugging off his officer cap. "This land to you means salvation of the last of your species. A new home; I can respect that."

Running his hand through his thinning hair, he exhaled slowly.

"You will die soon," Rommel conceded to the Admiral. "But before you do, I want you to know that you've given me a tangible _reason_ to keep fighting here. You'll have an advocate inside the Reich in me… even if you do not get to see it."

Jalina's dull eyes lit up, her face struggled to form a smile at the promise made by the human. A promise he would keep. He would beat the English into submission for them. He would beat the inevitable American invasion into submission on the quarians behalf. Long odds, undoubtedly, but for the first time in this war, he had a reason to wage war without it stinking of ideological politics. This campaign would be built on a simple, noble ideal: survival.

" _Thank you_ ," the old woman managed to get out, her voice sounding tired and very heavy.

She turned away and before Rommel could realize it, her posture changed, no longer rigid, she seemed to slump, as if she wanted to lie down. Rommel closed his eyes. He knew what this was. Carefully, his arm wrapped around the dying woman. Her head leaned against his shoulder as she fought for her last breaths.

"It will be nice, Herr Rommel..." She whispered faintly. "Finally being allowed to rest, for seventy years I have served my race. It would be nice... to sleep, to see my ancestors my family... I think our two races will get along."

Rommel nodded his head, agreeing with her sentiment.

"My name is Erwin…" He returned to her, his voice hard to carry as he watched her faintly smile.

"Er-Erwin…" She exhaled, her voice sounding so joyous. "Thank you."

Jalina'Calis' voice trailed off. Rommel closed his eyes and exhaled as she did. Her eyes were distant. Gone was the life she held for ninety years in them. She was finally with her gods... ancestors. Rommel held her close as he stared off to the setting sun, treating the passed on quarian as though she was still sitting there with him.

As he had promised to her, he had a reason to take this desert.

He would not break his promise.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 **Changes: General clean up, reworked the ending a bit so that she didn't just magically die. I imagine voluntary euthanasia would not be very taboo, and scaled with the back on the sex a little bit.**

 **Thanks for reading; I'll see you soon with the next installment. They should come out faster as I progress due to better quality with each story in the series, but I should also factor in the length is going to dramatically start increasing as well.**


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